


Eat or be Eaten

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [10]
Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Period-Typical Homophobia, all of them - Freeform, cw bulimia, everyone's a fucking mess in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 90,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Heather Duke's birthday celebration doesn't go to plan.





	1. The Colour Red

**Author's Note:**

> HEY SO READ THIS
> 
> this fic is about Heather Duke's bulimia. it's going to go into depth about it, so if something like this is something you find uncomfortable, maybe don't read it
> 
> alternative title: Chandler makes bad decisions for 30K words

_“So this will be the seating plan for the next few weeks…”_

Heather listened to her teacher as she called out some of her new classmates names, seating them in pairs around desks that were clearly only meant for one student. She rolled her eyes - clearly this was just the school being cheap. The whole “sitting in pairs to make new friends” notion was an all-too-obvious cover up.

At the same time, however, Heather couldn’t help but feel like it was necessary. While this was expected on the first day of middle school, she couldn’t help but feel like she was completely and utterly _alone_.

It didn’t help that she was new to Sherwood Ohio. Sort of. She had lived here about six years ago, but that felt like such a long time ago. Any friends that she made back then… she’d probably never see again.

“ _Heather…_ ”

Heather’s attention snapped back to the teacher who was pointing to an empty desk.

“If you could sit there…”

Without even thinking, Heather left the crowd of students standing by the door and stumbled over to the desk.

Then she placed her hands on a chair, before looking up and unexpectedly locking eyes with blue.

In front of her was a taller girl in a frilly pink dress, blue eyed and freckled with loose curly ginger hair which stopped just past her shoulders. She was giving her a puzzled look, and Heather could only do the same.

Had she heard her name wrong?

“Oh!” They both looked at their teacher who gave a light chuckle. “Sorry, girls. You can both sit there, I was going to pair you up anyway, you’re next to each other on the register.”

Heather stared at her blankly, before looking back at the other girl, who was now tucking herself into her seat. Heather did the same, paying no mind to the teacher as she moved over to the opposite end of the room, standing next to the desk that began the next row, far away from her.

“If Martha could sit here…”

That caught Heather’s attention. She knew a Martha once.

_Probably not the same one._

Still, she looked to see who this Martha was, and she locked eyes with someone so familiar. Dark skin, black hair, dark brown eyes...

Woah. She might be the same perso-

“Sorry, what was your name again?”

A voice from right next to her broke her away from her thoughts. She whipped her head back to the girl next to her, who was looking at her curiously.

“Oh- uh… Heather.” She offered a friendly smile. “Duke,” she added.

The girl’s eyes widened, before letting out a long _“Oh!”_

“Hm?” Heather tilted her head in confusion.

“ _That_ makes sense,” the girl laughed. “I was wondering why you came and sat in my seat when she said ‘Heather.’”

Heather ignored the twinge of embarrassment to ask her, “Why?”

“Because _my_ name’s Heather.” She beamed at her. “Heather Chandler.” She held out a hand, waiting for Heather to shake it. Heather Duke hesitantly did so, nervously smiling.

“Oh, I didn’t realise,” she chuckled, looking back at Heather Chandler. “Sorry for stealing your seat, then.”

Heather pouted at her. “It might’ve been your seat. Guess we’ll never know who’s seat it _really_ was.”

Heather Duke gave a snicker. “No, it was yours. It’s in alphabetical order, and ‘C’ comes before ‘D,’ so you would’ve been first.”

Heather Chandler stared at her for a moment, before giving a “huh” of realisation.

“Guess you’re right.” Then she gave a giddy giggle. “This is so odd.”

Heather Duke gave a huff of laughter. “I know! What are the odds that we’d be seated next to each other-”

“No, no, not that.” She gave a half smile. “I mean, that _is_ funny, but it’s not that.”

Heather tilted her head. “What is it, then?”

“I _already_ have a friend called Heather,” she explained. “ _Best_ friend, might I add.”

Heather Duke widened her eyes. “Woah, really?”

“Mhmm!”

“Alright, class, quiet down!” the teacher suddenly called, interrupting their conversation. “I know it’s exciting to talk to new people and all, but it’ll be even more exciting to begin out first music lesson!”

Though Heather Duke was staring at the front of the classroom, she could see from the corner of her eye that Heather Chandler was leaning over into her ear to whisper,

“Doubt it.”

Heather Duke stifled a snicker, while Heather Chandler let out a guffaw.

“Heather!”

Though she knew she wasn’t speaking to her, Heather Duke still stiffened at the sound of her name being yelled.

“Quiet, please.”

“Sorry,” Heather Chandler muttered.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes as they listened to their teacher babble away about chords, notes… basic stuff like that.

Heather Chandler leaned over again.

“I already know all of this. I might as well not even be here.”

Heather Duke looked at her, her interested peaked.

“You know music?”

“I was thrown into piano lessons when I was six. I’m practically the next Mozart.”

Heather Duke had to cover her mouth to muffle her giggles. Luckily the teacher seemed to be caught up in reciting some vocal warm-ups to pay attention.

“So, you play the piano, huh?”

Chandler nodded, grinning. “Yeah. I didn’t have much of a choice, but it’s just become part of me at this point.” She glanced to the front of the classroom to check if the teacher had noticed them speaking at all, and when the coast was clear, she turned back to Duke.

“What about you? Play anything?”

Duke pursed her lips, then slowly nodded. Chandler’s face lit up.

“Ooh! What is it?”

It was a miracle their teacher didn’t hear her, her voice sounded so enthusiastic.

“Nothing fancy like the piano,” she admitted, looking down at her hands. “I’ve been learning the drums recently.”

“Woah, really?” She leaned forward a little, though it wasn’t necessary with how close they were already being forced to sit. “That’s _super_ very.”

Duke gave a sheepish smile. “I can’t really play them that often, though. I have to be quiet whenever my parents are around.”

Chandler gave a puzzled look. “How do you play the drums _quietly_?”

“I don’t.”

Chandler gave a nod of understanding. "Ah.” She gave a thoughtful look. “You should bring them over to my house. My house is _huge_.” She grinned. “You can play them as loud as you want and no one will give a shit.”

Duke widened her eyes at the sudden curse word, and it seems Chandler noticed.

“Oh, sorry for swearing!”

“It’s okay,” Duke shrugged. “I’m not used to it, is all.”

“This is Sherwood Ohio. You’re telling me you’ve never heard a swear word before?”

Duke shook her head. “I only moved here recently.”

“Oh! Where from?”

“Michigan.” Then she bit the inside of her cheek. “I used to live here, though. Years ago.”

Duke wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen someone look so interested in her personal life. There was a glimmering twinkle in her eye, one flowing with enthusiasm.

“Heather, Heather, please be quiet.”

The two of them turned back to their teacher.

“Sorry,” they said simultaneously.

After some time of listening to some more basic music stuff that they both already knew, Chandler came and whispered to her,

“You free this lunch?”

Duke slowly nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“Wanna come sit with me? And Heather?” She gave an excited gasp. “Oh, you can meet Heather!”

Heather was surprised. She’d already planned out this lunch: find a table in the darkest part of the cafeteria, eat lunch, hide her face behind a book and patiently wait until it’s over.

She hadn’t imagined she’d be able to sit with _anyone_ on the first day.

But she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.

“Y-yeah! I’d love to,” she said, smiling. Chandler beamed.

“Great!” She gave a giggle. “A table full of Heathers.”

Duke gave a snigger. “People might start calling us ‘The Heathers’ for short.”

“Oh my gosh, _imagine_.”

 

* * *

 

“Why’d you book the meal for _Wednesday_?” Chandler asked as she sat herself on the table, while Duke remained sitting on the bench, gazing up at her.

“It wasn’t _me_ , it was my parents,” she retorted. “They want to keep my weekend free so that they can spend the day with me or whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be free on Sunday, though. You can all come then and give me any birthday presents.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see if Mac and ‘Ronica are free,” Chandler said, gazing off into the near-empty cafeteria.

“V has a free now, right?”

Chandler looked back down at her and gave a scoff.

“You’re _really_ sticking with the ‘V’ thing?”

Duke scowled at her. “Unless you have any better ideas.” _Don’t bother coming up with any better ideas._

Chandler gave a cocky huff. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Duke rolled her eyes when she looked away from her. _Of course you can._

“But knowing that nerd, she’s probably doing extra homework,” Chandler then said, staring at the cafeteria door. Just after she said that, Duke heard it swing open, and she twisted her body around to see Veronica and McNamara making their way over to their table.

“Hey, guys,” Veronica greeted. Duke swung her legs over to the other side of the bench to face them better, and offered a half-smile to McNamara, who sat next to her.

“Why do you have a free now?” Duke asked her. “You’re usually in cheerleading practice, right?”

“Clearly she’s still _out_ of cheerleading practice,” Chandler muttered from next to her. Duke bit back a sharp retort when she saw McNamara and Veronica glance at each other nervously. She gave a puzzled look.

“Why the look?” Chandler questioned, shuffling over a little. McNamara and Veronica gazed up at her with a distressed look.

“I’m… um…” McNamara mumbled, latching onto Veronica’s arm. Duke shot Chandler a confused look, and she did so back before turning to the two of them again.

“What?” she asked, leaning over a little.

Duke shuffled over a little to nudge McNamara with her elbow. “Hey, what’s going on?”

McNamara looked back at her with a dejected gaze, making Duke frown. Sad McNamara; never a nice sight to see.

“They kicked me off,” she finally muttered. “For good.”

“ _What!_ ” Duke flinched when she heard Chandler screech from behind her. “Why?"

“They found out that she got into a fight,” Veronica replied, giving McNamara a pat on her shoulder.

Duke sneered. “So what? It wasn’t on school grounds or anything.”

“That’s what I said!” Veronica exclaimed, holding Duke’s gaze in some sort of shared agreement.

“Clearly the school doesn’t care,” McNamara grunted, giving a shrug.

“How did they even find out you got into a fight in the first place?” Chandler questioned, giving a look of suspicion.

“From someone who was at the party,” McNamara replied dryly. Duke whipped her head over to Chandler, who looked as if she could kill.

“Of course,” she hissed, leaping down from the table. “If that bitch thinks she can get away with-”

“Don’t you think we’ve had _enough_ revenge for one week?” Veronica asked. Chandler stared her down.

“Oh really? You don’t want to help Mac get back the place she rightfully deserves?” She stalked over to Veronica and leered at her. “Do you _know_ how hard she worked for that role?”

Veronica stood up to meet her at eye level. Duke had to remind herself not to chuckle when Chandler had to stumble backwards.

“Yes, I _do_ ,” she argued. “And I _do_ want her to get it back.”

“And you think sitting here doing _nothing_ is going to fix it?” Chandler crossed her arms over her chest, angling her chin up while glaring down at her.

“No, I was going to try and talk our way into getting her title back.”

“As if that’s going to work.”

“How do _you_ know that?”

“I’ve been in this school long enough.”

Duke stared at the two bickering, all the while McNamara shuffled along the bench to sit closer to her, catching her attention. She looked over to the girl next to her, catching her hazel gaze.

“Well, they went three weeks without arguing,” Duke muttered to her. McNamara gave an exasperated sigh, letting her head hang a little. Duke frowned, then nudged her with her elbow. “If it makes you feel any better, birthday dinner’s booked for this Wednesday.”

Heather’s face suddenly lit up so bright that Duke could feel the warmth radiating from it.

“Great!”

Her voice managed to stop Chandler and Veronica mid-argument, and they both turned to her in confusion.

“What?” Veronica asked.

McNamara turned to her. “Heather’s birthday meal’s on Wednesday!”

“So you better keep your schedule free,” Duke added, staring at Veronica, who gave a light huff.

“Oh, yeah, I’m free that day.”

“Good,” Duke replied. McNamara beamed, then bounded over to where she was standing to grab her arm.

“It’s your first birthday celebration with us!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I can’t wait!”

Duke tried to hide her disagreement, instead just offering a friendly smile to her. She wasn’t about to hint that she… _really_ didn’t want to go to this stupid meal. She’d rather just skip to her _actual_ birthday.

_Ugh. Whatever. It’s just one night._

“You two better not argue on the night,” Duke grunted, nodding to Chandler and Veronica. Chandler scorned at her, and Duke already knew what was coming.

“Shut up, Heather.”

Duke had to swallow her rage.

“ _Sorry, Heather,_ ” she spat out.

 

* * *

 

“Imagine starting a _band_ !” Chandler exclaimed as they maneuvered around the many strangers crowding the unfamiliar hallways. Duke was really struggling to keep up - she wondered if Heather had any idea of how _short_ her legs were compared to hers.

“Uh-” She grunted as she shoved past a group of girls blocking a corridor. “I don’t know if that would work! Would a piano and a drum set work?” She had no choice but to latch onto Heather’s pale arm as to stop herself from being dragged away by the sea of students. It seemed to catch her attention, since she grabbed onto her hand to give her a boost forward.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Chandler asked, now holding onto her wrist. “It might sound cool!”

Duke frowned. “Um, because drums are so _loud_ compared to the piano?”

“You saying I can’t play _loud_?”

Duke’s heart dropped. What if she offended her?

But then she giggled, to her relief. “We’ll see about that, Heather.” She looked ahead, stopping. “Uh… which way is the cafeteria?” She glanced at Duke. “Do you know?”

Duke opened her mouth to reply, only to be shoved forward by a weight behind her.

“Ugh, _watch it_!”

A lower voice, one that sounded like a male her age, had shoved her onto her knees, and was now glaring down at her as if she were a pest in need of extinguishing. She shrank under his gaze - especially since he was _much_ taller than she was.

She then felt another weight haul her back onto her feet.

“You were the one who bumped into her!” Chandler snapped, gripping her arm tightly. The boy gave a grunt.

“Not my fault she stopped in front of me.”

“No, you _pushed_ her!”

Duke shrank each time their voices rose in volume.

“Who even _is_ she?” the boy asked, glaring at her. Duke swallowed, looking away.

“Her name’s _Heather_ ,” Chandler hissed.

The boy gave a haughty laugh. “What, was _one_ clone not enough for you?”

She felt Heather’s arm stiffen.

“She’s not a clone. She’s way smaller than I am.”

Duke frowned. She wasn’t wrong.

The boy gave another childish laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Chandler snarled at him. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just saying she looks _way_ different from me!”

He stepped closer to her. “Yeah, you’re right.” He leaned over and narrowed his eyes. “What are you, Chinese or somethin’?”

Duke scrunched up her nose. “I’m _Korean_ , you asshole.”

He seemed a little taken aback by her sudden sharp tone, stepping away from her. Usually Duke wouldn’t have resorted to swear words, but she figured that this was worth making an exception.

“Leave us alone, Ram,” Chandler growled. Duke heard that name, and suddenly something clicked.

Heather knew this kid. From years ago. He used to be friends with _her_ best friend, right?

Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to him?

“Fine. I don’t wanna talk to a couple of losers like you anyway.”

Duke stared at him as he walked away, both shocked and disgusted.

_Something awful, for sure._

“Euch. Dickhead,” Chandler muttered, before tugging on her wrist to begin leading her down another corridor. “You okay, by the way?”

Duke smiled up at her. “I’m alright”. She looked away shyly. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

Chandler gave a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. Ram’s scary to a lot of people, but I’ve never been scared of him. He’s just a dumbass who happens to be really tall.”

Duke gave her a concerned look. “He _is_ really tall,” she said. “What if he hurt you?”

Chandler gave a laugh. “Nah, he’s not brave enough to hit a girl.”

Duke gave a light giggle.

They’d just made it to the bottom of another corridor, when,

“ _Heather!_ ”

Duke became alert at the sound of her name, looking around to who could have called her. She scanned the many preteens surrounding her, looking for a face who might know her. She found no one

Then a blurry figure darted in front of her, and she had to release Heather to jump back.

“Heather!” Chandler exclaimed, and when Duke looked over, she saw a smaller brunette wearing a black dress over a white shirt, with long, straight hair swooping over one side of her face, clinging onto Heather as if she were a life ring.

Ah. So _this_ was Heather.

Duke wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Maybe she’d assumed that this outgoing girl had other outgoing friends, and that her _best_ friend would be just the same.

But no. _This_ Heather looked… extremely reserved, what with how her legs tucked in towards one another in an awkward fashion, how half of her face was hidden by dark hair, and with how desperately she held onto Chandler’s arm.

“How was your first… _half_ of your first day?” she asked, her tony chippy. Heather stared up at her, and Duke had to shuffle around to Chandler’s other side to catch sight of her face.

She looked horrified.

“I-I don’t like it here,” she stammered, shifted closer to her. “I don’t know anyone.”

Chandler frowned, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “It’s okay! No one expects you to make friends in the first few hours.”

Heather looked doubtful, especially when she looked over to Duke, before averting her gaze immediately. It may have been brief eye contact, but Chandler still noticed.

“Okay, so maybe _I_ did, but it was for a good reason.” 

Heather gazed up at her blankly.

“Heather…” Chandler walked Heather closer to Duke. “Meet Heather.” She gestured towards her, and Heather just deadpanned at her.

“Huh?” was her response. Duke offered a friendly smile.

“It’s nice to meet you!” she chipped, holding out her hand for her to shake. Heather didn’t grab it. She simply stared at it, as if she had no idea what she was trying to do.

 _Um… okay…_ She slowly retracted her hand.

“Uh…” Chandler cleared her throat, before leaning over to Duke. “She’s shy,” she whispered. Duke nodded.

“It’s okay,” Duke said, more aiming it at Heather. “I get really shy too.”

Heather just gazed at her for a while longer, before tearing it away. Duke frowned.

_Doesn’t she like me?_

“Hey, Mac, is it alright if Heather sits with us this lunch?” Chandler asked, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. ‘Mac’ looked up at her, said nothing for a few moments, before nodding. Chandler grinned at her, then at Duke.

“Come on! Let’s go find the cafeteria!” she told them, dragging them off in some random direction.

Duke simply followed them both, wondering whether or not if she should actually be doing so.

Mac had seemed so scared of her. What if she was interfering?

 

* * *

 

“Is that the eye shadow you bought last week?” Veronica asked, splayed across Heather’s bed with her legs kicking in the air. Heather looked over from her vanity and nodded.

“Yeah! I haven’t worn it yet, so who knows how it’ll look.”

“I think Heather was right, it probably will look really nice on you,” Veronica said, sitting up. Mara shot her a smile.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” She then let out a hum. “Hey, I still don’t know what to get Heather for her birthday. Do you know what you’re getting?”

Mara grinned. “I already have it.”

“Oh. Shit.”

She gave a chuckle. “It’s okay, I doubt Heather has her present ready either.”

Veronica arched a brow at her. “I mean, I expect her to buy Heather’s present at last minute. If it all.”

Mara glanced over to her. “She will, don’t worry!”

Veronica shot her an unconvinced look. Mara just furrowed a brow at her.

“You really think she’s not going to get her a present?” she asked, raising a brow at her. Veronica frowned.

“No, she probably will, but…” She pursed her lips. “Dunno. Guess I’ve never understood how either of them consider each other friends.”

Mara frowned, quickly dabbed on the last of her eye shadow, then walked over to the bed and sat beside her.

“They _are_ friends. They just…” She gritted her teeth. Veronica gave a sigh.

“Argue a lot?”

Mara nodded, then turned to Veronica with a defensive look in her eye. “But you and Heather argue a lot too!”

Veronica bit her lip when the thought of Heather Chandler came to mind, though she was quick to shake it off. “I know, but… they’re _actual_ disagreements. Heather and Heather can find _anything_ to bicker about.”

Mara turned towards the floor, her legs swinging back and forth and thumping against the bed.

“Everyone argues though, right?” Mara said with uncertainty. Veronica gave a weak smile.

“Yeah, but Heather and Heather-”

“They can just be difficult, is all!” Mara blurted out, cutting Veronica off. Veronica remained silent for a moment, and soon enough Mara shot her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She lightly nudged her knee with her own and lightly huffed. “Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying too much about them.”

“Yeah,” Mara grabbed her arm, her strong grip radiating warm onto Veronica. “Tonight’ll be a fun night. Let’s not worry about any of that!” She grinned. “Besides, when they want to get along, they can, and they probably will. They’re not dumb - they know arguments aren’t a good idea on a birthday meal.” She stood up and gave a pat on Veronica’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”

“Alright!” she called as she made her way out of her room. Once Veronica was alone, she let her eyes wander around the large room.

It still felt surreal to be in Mara’s room, after… last Friday. Sitting in here now acted like a constant reminder that she’d gotten a bit _too_ intimate with someone who she was supposed to call her best friend.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be a shock to her. It wasn’t as much as a shock between her and Chandler anymore, but that’s because it had almost been a month since the first move. It had only been a few days for her and Mara.

And in staring at the mattress she currently sat on, all those memories of that night just kept on flooding back to her. Perhaps if she were alone she would let them, but considering that she’d be hanging with both Chandler _and_ Mara tonight - both of them in attractive clothing, she knew for a fact - she had a feeling letting her dumb infatuations with the two of them getting the best of her would be _hell_ . Sure, Betty may had squealed upon discovering her crush on “another Heather” (Veronica refused to tell her which one) and had told her to _keep making moves_ , but hell no, that was a terrible idea. Sorry, Betty.

While gazing around Mara’s room, eyes trailing away from the bed, she spotted a large textbook on the nightstand. Currently having nothing else to do (Mara had been courteous enough to help Veronica get ready before she got ready herself) she shuffled along the bed to pick it up.

She read the title, and immediately her curiosity was peaked. It was a textbook on mental health - one of her odd interests. She could only assume it was one of Mara’s too, especially since they were both in a psychology class together.

Without a second thought, she opened the cover, and it was only after that did she notice some sticky notes poking out of the pages. One a bright green, the other two a luminous yellow. Veronica guessed that Mara had simply bookmarked some of her favourite pages, and couldn’t resist seeing what she’d found.

She landed on the first bookmark - the green one - and began to read the page, starting from the title:

 _Eating Disorders_.

Veronica was a little taken aback by that.

She quickly scanned over the first page, which was a quick introduction, followed by a wall of text explaining anorexia. Her eyes skimmed over it for a while, letting the paragraphs carry them over to the top of the next page.

The anorexia section ended about half way down the second page. Once she got to the end, she spotted the sticker that had been sticking out of the book.

It was stuck next to the _Bulimia Nervosa_ section.

Oh.

_Oh._

“It’s not for me.”

The sudden sound of Mara’s voice was enough to make Veronica yelp in surprise. Mara muttered an apology before slipping the book out of her hands, though she let it remain open.

“I, uh… I figured,” Veronica replied, staring at the textbook. It took her a while to tear her gaze away and look back up at Mara, whose eyes had dulled. Veronica frowned. “Mara, why were you looking at the-”

“Why the hell do you think?” she snapped, before realising what she’d done. “S-sorry, I just…” Her words trailed off, and she let out a defeated sigh. Veronica decided to shift over a bit, despite there being enough room already, and pat the space next to her. Heather hesitated before slumping down next to her, still holding the book open. Veronica dared to peer over Mara’s shoulder to get a look at what it said. Her eyes landed on somewhere completely random.

_Purging may cause dehydration, while vomiting or overuse of laxatives can cause electrolyte imbalances within the body, which commonly comes in the form of low potassium levels._

Veronica swallowed.

_This can trigger symptoms such as lethargy, irregular heartbeat and-_

Veronica caught her breath.

_-death._

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” she murmured, tearing her gaze away from the book. Mara slowly nodded, staring at the pages. She wasn’t crying - her eyes weren’t even watering, but all the usual brightness within them had disappeared. Pity began to well up Veronica’s chest, and she wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, as if that would fix anything. Mara seemed to melt into it, at least, since she let her head rest on her shoulder and the book dropped onto her lap.

“I’m scared,” she whimpered. “Every time I help her out after purging, it’s like she gets weaker and weaker.” She adjusted herself on Veronica’s shoulder to gaze up at her with a terrified stare which was close to striking fear in Veronica herself. “I hoped that she’d at least get used to it, but she doesn’t.”

Veronica grimaced. “Vomiting isn’t something your body’s supposed to get used to.”

“I know…” Her head flopped back on her shoulder. Veronica leaned against her, running her fingers through her blonde hair slowly. “But it’s getting worse each time.”

Veronica bit her lip. Only now did she realise she’d never been around Duke when she _didn’t_ purge.

Well, she had, but she could barely remember it. It was too long ago.

“How long has this been going on for?” she asked. Mara didn’t respond for a moment, before,

“I don’t know exactly. A few months?”

“How do you not know?”

She shifted a little. “Heather and I found her in the act one day. I don’t know how long she’d been doing it before that.”

 

* * *

 

“She went to the bathroom.”

Chandler gave an irritated groan. “Again?”

Mac nodded.

“She went like ten minutes ago!” She stood up from her seat, then gestured for Mac to follow on. “Come on.”

Mac stared up at her in confusion, but obeyed anyway. “Why?”

“Every time we’ve went out this summer she’s been disappearing to the bathroom way more often than she used to.” She lead her away from the table, abandoning their tray full of used coffee mugs and plates. “It’s _weird_.”

Mac frowned. “Maybe she’s… uh…” She pursed her lips. “I dunno, got a bad bladder?”

Chandler rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe not then.

“Whatever it is, I want to know.”

Mac cringed. “Maybe she’s insecure about it!”

Chandler gave an exasperated sigh as she pushed through the bathroom doors.

“We’re her _friends_ ,” she muttered, stepping into the bathroom.

As soon as they were inside, they were met with the sound of gagging echoing in the only closed stall. It didn’t take them long to know that the gagging was definitely Duke’s voice, and they shot a look of perplexion and concern at one another, before Chandler marched over to the stall.

“Heather?” she called. No reply. Not even any hurling. “Heather, are you _vomiting_?”

“The hell are you doing in-” Duke was interrupted by a hurl. “-In here?”

“We were wondering why you kept going to the bathroom, so we followed you,” Mac replied coming to stand by Chandler. “Are you okay?”

“ _Fine_ ,” she snapped, flushing the toilet. “Just go away.”

Chandler looked like she were offended. “Excuse me?”

“I said _fuck off_ ,” Duke hissed, still not opening the door. Mac frowned.

“Are you ill, Heather?” she asked. “If you need to go home then-”

“ _No,_ ” Duke snapped. “I’m fine.”

There was a silence among the three of them for a bit. Then,

“Did you just throw up your food?” Chandler asked, stepping closer to the door with her hand on her hip. Mac widened her eyes at the suggestion, while Duke remained silent.

“...No,” she eventually muttered. Chandler crossed her arms.

“You always disappear after meals,” she began. “There’s no way you have the _flu_ or some shit, because you’ve been acting just fine all day.”

Mac cringed when she was met with silence.

“Heather, _please_ tell me you’re not hopping onto that trend.”

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing Duke with a blazing glare.

“ _I said fuck off!_ ”

Both Mac and Chandler jolted at her suddenly screaming, followed by a loud slam of the stall. Mac just gazed at it, horrified, while Chandler looked stunned.

Then she grabbed Mac by the arm.

“Fine. We’ll fuck off, then,” she spat, before dragging Mac out of the bathroom. Mac, in reality, wanted to stay and check if she was okay, but was convinced that that would be an awful idea by how Chandler slammed the bathroom doors behind her on her way out, making Mac flinch in surprise.

 _We can talk to her later,_ she told herself on the way out of the cafe.

 

* * *

 

Veronica stared at her.

“She called it a _trend_?” She gaped. Mara slowly nodded.

“I know that’s probably what set her off, but I don’t think she _meant_ to.” She chewed on her lip. “I don’t think she really understands how serious it is.”

Veronica scoffed. “Then she should _learn_ . If _you_ can, why can’t she?” She gestured towards the book. Mara winced when she glanced at it, before giving a sigh.

“I don’t know.” She gave a weak shrug. Then she gave a sniff, and Veronica tightened her hold on her, wondering if she was going to cry or not. While she did nuzzle into the crook of her neck, she didn’t hear any more sounds from her.

“Hey, just don’t think about it too much, okay?” Veronica murmured, resting her chin on her head. She then took the textbook, closed it and tossed it onto the other side of the bed, out of reach. “Not for tonight, anyway.”

She felt Mara nod.

“I won’t.”

Veronica gave a half-smile, lifting her off of her shoulder. “Good.” She angled her chin up towards her to hold her gaze. “We’re just going to have fun tonight, aren’t we? Just like you said.”

Mara shakily smiled and nodded again.

“We will.”

Veronica grinned, gazing into those speckled hazel irises, outlined by thin eyeliner and lime-green eye shadow. Her tanned skin glistened under the light, and her bright pink lips stood out as if they were in a spotlight.

Very tempting. Especially when their lipsticks were similar shades, so not much fixing would be needed.

_A peck won’t hurt._

So that’s what she did. Just a peck on the lips. Mara gave a sweet giggle which was enough to lighten the terribly grim mood that had fallen on them both.

“Oh, is _that_ what you meant when you said ‘ _fun_?’” she questioned, a smirk threatening to form on those magenta lips. Veronica felt heat rushing to her face.

She never expected Mara to be such a goddamn _flirt_.

“No, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” she chuckled, leaning a little closer. Mara grinned, before shooting forward and closing the distance. Veronica let out a hum of approval when she felt a hand slither around to hold her by the waist, the other crawling up her neck. Veronica tilted her head to the side, letting her deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue over her lips, causing Mara to open them and let her in. She let out a groan when she entered her mouth, and-

_Beeeeeeeeep!_

They jolted away from each other, startled, in hearing the sound of Chandler’s horn outside. They held each other’s startled gaze for a moment, as if the sound was reminding them of everything surrounding them and this bizarre situation they’d gotten themselves into.

Then Mara broke the stare and leaped up from the bed.

“I gotta get the party poppers!” She glanced at her feet. “And shoes.”

Veronica gave a laugh. “Me too.”

“We better hurry, or she’ll wake the whole neighbourhood.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Duke shot a doubtful look to Chandler, who was currently sitting at her grand piano, legs swinging back and forth in excitement. She looked over to her and nodded vigorously.

“Of course I’m sure!” She grinned when she looked at the drum set in front of her. “What’s that saying? Something about opposites and attraction.”

Duke gave a light huff. “I think you’re thinking of ‘opposites attract.’”

“Oh! That’s it,” she said, hovering her fingers over the piano keys. “Anyway, three, two, one…”

Duke had to scramble to get her drumsticks in the right position in her hands before the countdown ended, and only barely made it.

They both began to play the instrumentals of the chorus of the song _Up Where We Belong_ , Duke cringing each time she hit a symbol too soon, or played the beat too quickly or was completely offbeat altogether.

Chandler, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. Over the sound of her drums, Duke could hear her hit every key perfectly, press the peddle at the right times, keeping the rhythm going.

Duke just couldn’t stop staring at her. Heather Chandler was a wonder; in the couple of weeks that she’d known her, she’d figured out so much about her. She had an odd habit of oversharing about… her, but Duke didn’t mind. She loved listening to stories about her life and how perfect it seemed. She could be jealous of it, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be. It was good enough that she was allowed to bring her drumset into her huge house (which Duke was pretty sure counted as a mansion, but Heather had told her “if you think _this_ is big, wait until you see Mac’s!”) the fact that she could be associated with this girl at all was a miracle.

Duke had been so lost in her thoughts that she hardly noticed herself fumble with one of her sticks, only to drop it. She let out a yelp, and the piano immediately stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Chandler asked, twisting her body around on her seat to face her. Duke frowned at her.

“I dropped my drumstick,” she muttered, slipping off her seat to pick it up. “I messed it up.”

“It’s okay!”

Duke looked unconvinced. She simply stared at her drumsticks, frowning.

Then suddenly, Chandler was next to her. She flinched in seeing her leaning over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” she asked. Duke looked up at her sheepishly.

“Nothing.”

Chandler gave her a tap on the shoulder.

“You’re bad at lying.”

Duke let her head hang.

“I wish I were as good as you,” she mumbled. “At playing the drums, I mean.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Then Chandler let out a chortle.

“I can’t play the drums, silly!”

Duke frowned. “That’s not what I mea-”

“I’d be _terrible_ at playing the drums,” she cut in, taking the drumsticks out of Duke’s hands. Duke gave her an odd look.

“I didn’t mean-"

“Shut up for a sec, I’ll show you,” she laughed, hopping onto the stool. “We’ll see who’s _worse_.”

Duke opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Chandler slamming the sticks down on the drum kit, creating loud, uncoordinated thumping. Duke winced at the sound, coiling back a little.

Some time after, the two of them were silenced by the door clicking open.

No one came through from the other side, though Duke could see a hand gripping onto the doorknob from where she was standing. That was about it, though.

“Heather, be quiet,” the harsh voice of a woman came from the other side, the voice of Chandler’s mother, she recognized. She cringed at the aggressiveness in her tone, then looked back over to Chandler. She was gazing at the door with a guilty stare.

“Sorry, mom,” she grumbled. The door then shut again, leaving the two of them in an awkward silence.

“Woops,” Chandler eventually said, stepping off of the stool. She then handed the sticks back to Duke. “See? Told you I couldn’t play.”

Duke pursed her lips as she gazed at her. While she still looked as bold as ever, she could tell by the dulled gaze that she was probably at least a _little_ embarrassed. Duke frowned at the odd sight.

“My parents are like that too,” she said, which seemed to catch her off guard. “It’s way I’m not as good at playing the drums. I _never_ get to practice.”

Chandler blinked at her.

“Then why’d they let you get the drums if they’re gonna be so mean about it?”

Duke shrugged. “I pestered them about it a lot.”

A light huff was heard from Chandler.

“That’s how I get stuff that I want,” she said, her smile picking up. “Usually works.”

Duke gave a giggle. “I don’t know what else you could ask for.” She looked around the sitting room, which was abnormally big. And that was saying something, because Duke was by no means _poor_ . Far from it. “It’s like you have _everything_.”

“I don’t think I have _everything_ ,” Chandler replied. “Just most things.”

“Wanna swap lives?” Duke asked. Chandler snorted.

“Not really. I’m fine as I am, thanks.”

“I know. That’s why I want it.”

Chandler gave a chuckle. “I’m sure your life is great.”

“Your life is better.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’d like to find out.”

“No you don’t.”

A pause. Duke tilted her head, confused. Chandler looked indifferent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Duke asked. Chandler’s smile dropped, and she gave a shrug.

“Dunno.”

Duke frowned at her.

“Well, at least tell me how you’re so good at playing the piano.”

That seemed to work, since her smile returned and a familiar enthusiastic glint appeared in her eye.

“Only if you tell me how to play the drums.”

Duke grinned, as did Chandler.

“Though, we still need a singer,” Duke pointed out. “Our band is pretty empty right now.”

One of Chandler’s hands shot up in the air.

“Oh! I can do it!”

Duke’s eyes widened a little. “You can _sing_ too?” God, it might take her less time to go on a quest for things this girl _couldn’t_ do in order to figure out more about her.

“Don’t know! Haven’t went to singing lessons or anything.” She shrugged, but she was still smiling. “But I can _try_.”

Duke stood and watched as she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and then,

_“Is this just real life? Is this just fantasy?_

_Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.”_

Duke widened her eyes. Chandler’s voice, while lower than one would expect out of an eleven year old, was like a calm, clear stream flowing out of her, morphing into words.

“How was that?” she asked, looking at Duke hopefully.

“That was…” she tried to find the right words. “You… your voice is beautiful,” she confessed, gingerly smiling at her. Chandler beamed.

“Thank you!” She hopped a little closer to her to grab her arm with a gentle hold. “Does this mean I can sing?”

“If you want,” she replied. Chandler gave an eager squeal, before bounding back over to the piano.

“I’m gonna try and play Bohemian Rhapsody,” she said, sitting back on her chair. Duke made her way over to her, and noticed that Chandler shifted over on her seat, then patted the space next to it. Duke took this a sign to sit on it with her.

The seat clearly wasn’t made for two people, if the face that they both had to deal with sitting on their respective edges told them anything, but Duke didn’t mind. She didn’t mind being so close to Heather Chandler.

Because honestly, Heather Chandler was perfect.

A bold statement, she knew, but with the way her hands glided over the piano keys, dancing on them with grace as gentle as a swan’s, keeping up with the pace of her angelic sounding voice, Duke just couldn’t bring herself to admit that this girl had any flaws.

Not like her. Duke knew all of her flaws. She had witnessed every single one of them.

So how she had ended up in this rich girl’s house, sitting right up against her and listening to her play a grand piano with ease, she had no idea. She wasn’t about to complain, though.

But in gazing at the freckled redhead, Duke had to wonder what on earth Heather Chandler saw in her that was good enough to let her hang around.

 

* * *

 

Heather held her hand on the horn, waiting for Mac to emerge from her house. She clicked her tongue impatiently, staring at the door. She only removed her hand from the horn when it opened.

She had expected to just see Mac come out of the house, though she was surprised to see Veronica following behind her and waiting for her to shut the door behind them both. She was a little thrown off, but she didn’t complain. It just meant less of a journey.

The back door was opened, and Mac and Veronica piled in. Heather reminded herself to look away from the brunette; she wasn’t going to let herself swoon over her. Not tonight.

“Hi, Heather!” Mac chipped happily. Heather let herself look behind her into the back seat, and she was met with Mac wearing a yellow dress, patterned with green silhouettes of flowers, along with a black cardigan over her shoulders. She also wasn’t wearing her bangs over her face as per usual - they were swooped to the side, giving her a good view of both her eyes. She also had a flower crown made of pretty pink flowers with a yellow centre.

And when she dared to look at Veronica, she swallowed the urge to bite her lip. She was wearing a tight black dress which perfectly showed off her lithe figure, with what looked like a green, zinnia shaped brooch on her chest, along with a denim jacket. On her head she wore that blue flower headband that Mac had bought back when they had ditched.

_Stop being fucking gorgeous, you asshole._

“Hi,” she remembered to reply. “Why were you at Mac’s?” She looked at Veronica, who blinked at her.

“She offered to help me get ready,” she said. “Because, in your words, _I can’t accessories for shit._ ”

The corner of her mouth picked up in response.

_It’s starting to look like an outdated statement._

“You’re right, apologies for not offering to help you out with that.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. Mac gave a snicker.

“I had to swoop in and save her.”

“Mara!” Veronica whined, sounding betrayed. Chandler gave a chortle.

“Thank her later, she did a good job.” She reassured herself that the compliment was aimed at Mac, not Veronica, before turning around and placing her hands on the wheel. “She also saved me an extra ten minute drive to Veronica’s.

“Then let’s get to Heather’s ten minutes early!” Mac exclaimed. “The earlier we get to Heather’s, the earlier we get to Arabian Nights!”

Heather gave an amused sigh as she started up the car again.

“You seem really set on this restaurant, Mara,” Veronica commented as the Porsche began to move. “What’s so great about it?”

She heard Mac let out a gasp of dismay. “You’re telling me you’ve _never_ been to Arabian Nights?”

Chandler snickered. “Of course she hasn’t. That place is too fancy for her.”

“Hey!”

Both Chandler and Mac giggled. Chandler glanced in the rear-view mirror purely to see the disgruntled pout on Veronica’s face.

“You’re both so mean.”

“You’ve been friends with us for three months and only _now_ have figured that out?” Chandler questioned with a smirk, though she knew Veronica couldn’t see it.

“I mean to _me_.”

“If we really were, then Mac and I wouldn’t be so kind to make sure you look presentable.”

Veronica let out a sigh of defeat. “I suppose.”

The three of them continued to chat during the drive to Duke’s, mostly talking about tonight, featuring Mac babbling on about how good the food was at the restaurant.

“You need to try the Lebanese coffee, Ronnie!” she declared. “You can’t be a coffee fanatic without trying actual fancy coffee.”

“That sounds really good, actually,” Veronica commented. “Never tried Lebanese stuff.”

“You _will_ ,” Mac replied, her voice slightly lower than usual. Veronica chuckled.

“Okay! If you insist.”

The conversation then ended when Chandler stopped the car outside of Duke’s house.

Veronica then let out a groan.

“Heather, I swear to God, if you-”

Chandler slammed her hand on the horn, laughing at Veronica’s annoyed moan.

“ _Fuck_ you.”

_Sounds good. It’s been so long._

“Oh, I gotta get the-” Mac began rustling through something, making Chandler turn around to see what she was doing.

“The what?”

Veronica let out a sigh. “She brought party poppers.”

Chandler stifled a chuckle.

“Give me one.”

Once Mac managed to pull out a bag of poppers from her handbag, she quickly opened it and handed Chandler one, as well as Veronica. As soon as they had them at the ready, the back door opened, with Duke on the other side.

“ _Happy birthday!_ ” Mac exclaimed, leaning over Veronica to pop the popper in her face. Veronica mimicked the action with her own popper. Duke flinched in surprise.

“Not actually my birthday yet, but thanks,” she replied, picking off a piece of confetti that had landed on her hair.

“Hey, loser,” Chandler called, catching her attention. “Get in the front, silly.”

Duke didn’t respond for a moment, to Chandler’s mild annoyance, but she soon enough closed the back door and opened the passenger side’s instead, taking her place in a seat that usually belonged to either Mac or Veronica. Once in, Chandler could get a better view of what she was wearing - a black, long sleeved t-shirt, decorated with dark green frills on the hems, accompanied by a lighter green skirt. Her hair was also not tied in a side ponytail with the green ribbon as usual, instead was loose, black curls flowing over her shoulders and bangs threatening to fall over on side of her face in a typical McNamara-style. Chandler would’ve complimented her looks - she could admit that she _did_ look nice - but doing so would’ve ruined what she was already planning.

As soon as she sat down, Chandler popped her popper right next to her ear, making her yelp in surprise. She cackled.

“Happy birthday, bitch!”

“ _Thanks_ , Heather,” she responded dryly. Chandler just gave a snort, before starting up the car again.

“You excited, Heather?” Mac asked from behind.

“Oh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Duke replied, peering back at her.

“Don’t know,” Mac said. “Just making sure.”

“I’m excited for anything that I don’t have to pay for myself.”

From the corner of her eye as she started up the car again, Chandler saw Veronica lean over and grip the seat in front of her, catching Duke’s attention.

“You sure you don’t want me to put anything towards this?” she asked. “Because I don’t mind-”

“Veronica, do yourself a favour an cease whatever free food you can get,” Duke cut in.

“Are you sure?”

“This isn’t even my money,” Duke replied. “It’s my parent’s. Like I care.”

“So inconsiderate, Heather,” Chandler chided playfully, shooting her a quick side glance as she drove down to the end of her street.

“Like you’re one to speak, Heather,” Duke shot back in a less friendly tone. Irritation began to burn in her chest, and she used the time she spent with the car stopped at the end of the street to glare at her. Duke caught her eye, and she seemed to shrink under her gaze, to her satisfaction.

 _Don’t be so insufferable tonight,_ she was very, very close to saying, but bit it back when she reminded herself that doing so would most likely cause ongoing bickering. She couldn’t be bothered with that right now.

“So how long’s the drive? I’m starving,” Veronica asked.

“Twenty minutes. Can you hold on for that long?” Chandler asked her.

“Seems I have no choice either way.”

Duke gave a laugh. “She could easily just throw you overboard.”

Chandler frowned at that idea. “I would never do that.”

“You’ve done it once before.”

She snarled. “Shut _u-_ ow!” She flinched when she felt a sharp pain on her arm, and had to remind herself to keep her eyes on the road instead of turning to glare at whoever had lightly hit her. She predicted it was Veronica, since she was the only one out of the three who would ever dare do that.

“None of that tonight, Heather! It’s Heather’s birthday, remember?” Veronica scolded her from behind.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt that had somehow formed in her heart, she gave an indignant scoff.

“Yes, I remember, thanks.” Her eye twitched. “But fine, if you _insist_.” She stopped at a traffic light, and took the opportunity to look at Duke, who stared back. Begrudgingly, she held out her hand; not in a way that would allow her to shake it, but rather in a fist that was loosely clenched.

Duke just stared at it, looking slightly in awe, then back up to her with a puzzled look. Chandler rolled her eyes.

“ _Truce_ ,” she explained with a mutter, still keeping her hand in place.

Duke didn’t respond for a while, which only irritated her more, but she eventually managed to bump fists with hers, then copy her movements to hit one side of her palm, then the other. They finished the stupid handshake just in time for Chandler to return to the wheel to follow the traffic that had begun to move.

Behind her came Veronica’s confused voice.

“The hell was that?”

“A truce,” Chandler repeated bluntly.

“It’s a handshake,” Mac explained further. “I almost forgot about it until now.”

“Because we haven’t used it in _years_ ,” Duke added, her tone as dry as usual.

“One time thing,” Chandler clarified. “Since Veronica will be on my ass if I don’t be _nice_ ,” she hissed, ignoring the fact that the saying, in a literal sense, doesn’t sound too bad.

_No. Stop. Save it for later._

“Kinda like she was when you were mad at Heather?” Duke asked in a cheeky tone. Chandler almost growled at the memory for _several_ reasons.

“ _Shh…_ ” She stopped herself before she could finished. “... _Yes_ , that.”

She shot Duke a side glance, and could’ve metaphorically slapped the smug look off her face.

_This is going to be a long night._

 

* * *

 

“Oh no!” Duke yelped, catching Chandler’s attention from the swing next to her. She dragged herself over by her feet, still sitting on her swing with an ice cream in her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got ice cream on my book,” Duke said, frowning at the white blob on her page.

That wasn’t necessarily Duke’s fault - she _had_ told Chandler that ice cream in one hand and a book in the other wasn’t a good mix, nor was rocking back and forth on a swing while holding the two of them, but Chandler had _insisted_ they do all three at once. An odd mixture of what they wanted to do with their afternoon; Duke had wanted to read, Chandler wanted ice cream, and McNamara had wanted to go to the playground.

Chandler peeked over and spotted it, and before Duke could react, she scraped it off with her finger and plopped it in her mouth.

“All better! No need to worry,” she said, grinning. Duke gave a half-hearted smile to her, only to frown again at the stain on her page.

She hated it when her things got messy. Even the slightest creases in her pages were annoying as hell to deal with.

“Maybe it was a bad idea to eat an ice cream while reading,” she muttered, biting off a big chunk of the cream. “This is a new book, too!”

“Yeah, the book _I_ bought you,” Chandler said proudly.

Duke gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, by the way,” she said. “For the book. My parents would’ve _never_ let me buy To Kill A Mockingbird.”

Chandler pouted, then bit into the chocolate flake in her ice cream.

“How come?” she asked once the flake was swallowed.

Duke let out a groan. “Apparently it’s _too grown-up_ for me.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve. I think I can handle it.”

“Duh,” Chandler agreed. “My parents said the same about The Bell Jar.” She gave a disgruntled huff. “One day I _will_ read it!” she declared, before licking her ice cream. Duke gave a giggle, and was about to say something else, but Chandler interrupted her by leaning over to glance at the swing next to Duke. “Woah, Mac, be careful!”

Duke spun around and saw McNamara swinging back and forth on her swing, flying off the ground at great heights each time. Duke thought it was impressive, while Chandler looked terrified.

“You’re gonna fall!”

McNamara looked down at her, seeming indifferent.

“I’ll be fine,” she said calmly. “Just watch. I’ll jump and I’ll be okay.”

Chandler gasped. “ _No!_ ”

Duke snickered. “Do it! Jump!”

A hit on the arm was what caught her attention. She looked over to Chandler, who was now giving her a serious glare.

“Shut up!”

Duke gave her an apologetic smile. “I was joking! I don’t actually want her to-”

A hand grabbed her shoulder, cutting her off.

“She doesn’t know that!” The glare she was giving her was short-lived, since she turned back to McNamara.

“One… two…” McNamara began to count, and Duke’s heart dropped.

“Wait, Heather!” she tried to call, jumping off of her swing. Chandler had darted forward, paying no attention to how her ice cream was now dripping, what with how she held it slightly tilted it over.

“ _Mac!_ ”

“One!” she called, taking one last swing. Duke widened her eyes in a panic.

“No, Heather, get down!” she called. Chandler shot her a warning glare, which hinted to her that she should probably shut up.

“No, _don’t_ get down-”

Too late.

McNamara had catapulted herself forward, into the air, and was now plunging towards the ground. Chandler let out a screech, but could do nothing else but watch her hit the floor below.

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t land on her feet. She did a roll across the dusty floor before stopping, holding herself up on her hands and knees. As soon as she was still, Chandler dropped her ice cream (what a waste) to dash forward and crouch down next to her. Duke followed on behind her, a little more cautious.

“Mac! Are you alright?”

Duke stood just behind her, trying to catch an answer from the brunette.

“Uh… I-I hurt my leg,” she whimpered, and Duke cringed.

“I can patch you up when we get home!” Chandler told her, before turning to look up at Duke. She nearly stumbled back, she was so startled by the anger blazing in her eyes.

“Why did you tell her to jump, you…” Her face scrunched up as she tried to think of the right word. “You pillowcase!”

Duke flinched at how she spat out the word. In the few months of knowing her, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen her get this angry.

“I-I didn’t think she was actually going to do it!” she stammered. “I was only jo-”

“Well she _did_ ,” Chandler snapped, grabbing McNamara by the sides. “Mac, can you get up?”

“Um…” McNamara grabbed Chandler’s arms and let her haul her onto her feet. She was quick to stand on only one foot, the other having a bleeding graze on it. Duke grimaced, feeling a sense of guilt swallow her. “Sort of,” she eventually replied, her voice quiet.

“We can go back to my house, it’s the closest one,” Chandler said, arm wrapped around her. McNamara linked arms with her, and began to hop along with her, only for Chandler to stop again. “There’s no way you can hop all the way back to my house, Mac.”

“Oh. Right,” McNamara replied, letting her other leg down on the ground hesitantly. Duke watched shamefully as she began to limp along with her, towards the gate.

Then they stopped again, and Chandler looked back over to her.

“You coming?”

“Uh- yeah! Yeah,” she spluttered, darting over to Chandler’s side.

Chandler then turned to her with a darkened gaze.

“Never do that again,” she said coldly. “She could’ve really hurt herself.”

“I _did_ ,” McNamara added.

“She _did_ hurt herself,” Chandler told her, leering at her. Duke swallowed her shame and nodded, then looked over to McNamara.

“I’m sorry, Heather,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for you to…” She bit her lip and tightened her hold on her book. “I’m sorry.”

McNamara gave a curt nod. Duke wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to mean - whether or not McNamara had forgiven her was uncertain.

“Let’s go,” Chandler then said, guiding them towards the gate that lead out of the play area. The walk was slow - both Chandler and Duke had to adjust their walking speed to match McNamara’s. Perhaps it would’ve flown by with conversation, but no one spoke, other than Chandler checking if McNamara was alright.

Duke remained completely silent. Once her ice cream was finished, she hugged her book tightly and kept staring at the ground.

Intentional or not, McNamara was hurt, and it was her fault.

 _Of course it’s my fault,_ she thought to herself. _It always is._

Soon they made it to Chandler’s house, and while Chandler unlocked her door, Duke took a glance at McNamara’s leg.

There was more blood than before. Dried blood circled the wound, while new blood continued to drip.

That was her fault.

She was lead into the kitchen and watched as Chandler placed a wet paper towel on McNamara’s knee, followed by a bandage.

“You… know a lot about first aid, huh?” Duke chimed, attempting to begin a conversation in the deafening silence that had fallen on them.

Chandler didn’t bother looking up, only answering with a “Mhmm.”

Duke couldn’t bring herself to say anything else after that. She’d rather linger around the silent treatment than actually face it.

Soon enough, McNamara’s wound was patched up, and they were able to sit down on the sofa in the living room. Duke felt too guilty to sit right up next to Chandler as she usually did, so she opted to shuffle as close to the edge as she could.

“Thanks, Heather,” McNamara spoke up, giving a smile to Chandler.

“It’s alright.”

“I’ll be right back,” McNamara told her, slipping off of the couch. “I just need the bathroom.”

Chandler furrowed her brow. “Will you be okay walking there?”

McNamara pouted. “Obviously!” She began to limp forward, past Duke. “I’ll be fine.”

Duke stared after her as she shuffled out of the room, leaving her alone with Chandler.

She dared to look at her, and couldn’t tell if she was hurt or relieved to see her looking away.

“Heather?” she chirped. Chandler immediately whipped her head around to face her, making Duke flinch. “I-I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I… I didn’t think she was actually going to-”

“Shh,” Chandler cut her off, holding a finger out in front of her. Duke clamped her mouth shut. “It’s… whatever.”

So, not fine. Just whatever.

“Sorry for getting mad, I just…” Chandler pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. “What if you’d done that in school?”

Duke gave her a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?”

Chandler peeked over to her.

“I don’t know. Maybe not off a swing. Maybe like… a wall or something. What if you told her to jump off a wall?” She twisted herself around to face Duke, her expression now filled with concern. “She’d be a laughing stock!” Her lip was quivering every so slightly, and her eyes were slightly panicked.

Duke frowned at the sight. “I…”

“She just finds it difficult to tell when someone’s joking or not,” she muttered. “If you told her to do something dumb in school, she’d probably end up doing it.”

Duke slowly nodded, but remained quiet.

“Look, just…” Chandler breathed in deeply. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

Duke vigorously nodded.

_Note to self: don’t tell McNamara to do stupid things. Or anyone, for that matter._

_It’ll probably end in disaster._

“Good,” Chandler grunted, tapping the couch nervously. “And again, sorry for yelling,” she grumbled. “I just worry about her, is all.”

Duke nodded in understanding. She already knew that - in the few months of knowing them both, she’d seen them latched onto each other like conjoined twins.

“Friends?” Chandler then said, looking up to smile at her. Duke smiled back.

“Friends,” she echoed. Chandler beamed, and held out her hand. Duke stared at it for a moment, unsure what she was trying to do, but caught on that she might’ve wanted a fist pump. She bumped her knuckles with hers, and was met with a look of confusion.

“What was that?” Chandler asked. Duke pursed her lips, slightly embarrassed.

Never mind. Not what she was looking for.

“I… uh…”

“I was going to ask you for a-” Chandler attempted to hit Duke’s palm with her own, only to hit the side of her hand instead, “-a high five.”

“Oh!” Duke flipped her hand so that her palm was facing Chandler. “Sorry, I thought you were going for a fist pump.”

Chandler giggled. “Wait, let’s do it again.” She held up a clenched fist, causing Duke to fold her hand into the same shape. She bumped her knuckle with hers again, then was surprised when she unfolded her hand. Chandler collided the side of her palm with her own.

“Uh…” Duke blinked in confusion.

“Is that your handshake?”

McNamara’s voice took them both by surprise, and they snapped their heads around to see her leaning over the arm rest that was behind Duke.

“It is now,” Chandler said, looking at Duke hopefully. Duke just nodded.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Neat!” McNamara exclaimed, grinning. The sight brought relief to Duke.

At least she was acting fine.

No damage done.

 

* * *

 

“Jesus, this place is fancy as all hell,” Veronica commented as they made their way over to the table.

“Don’t be such a peasant,” Chandler grumbled.

Duke hardly paid any attention to either of them. She instead focused on finding their table in the midst of well-dressed folk surrounding her, all with large, steaming meals in front of them.

If she could hold her breath to stop herself from breathing in the sickening smell of food around her, she would.

But she couldn’t, she could only deal with it choking her with each step she could, causing her insides to churn in great discomfort.

_Ugh. Why couldn’t we have gone to see a movie or something?_

Soon enough they were at their table - a round table with a soft sofa-like seat surrounding it. Duke let the three girls sit first, and she at least got a “thank you” from McNamara and Veronica for her courtesy, and maybe a half-hearted smile from Chandler. Maybe.

Whatever. All she really wanted was the seat closest to the way out, anyway. She wasn’t looking for _thanks_.

Duke took her seat next to McNamara, who was sitting next to Veronica, who sat next to Chandler. She was fine with that. She was fine with Chandler taking the furthest seat away from her - she didn’t need to hear her quips tonight.

“So, uh, how much am I allowed to spend?” Veronica asked, glancing over to Duke. Duke just shrugged.

“Go crazy. My parents gave me one hundred and fifty dollars to spend between us.

Veronica widened her eyes. “For a _meal_?”

Chandler and McNamara let out a giggle.

“God, we need to take you out more,” Chandler said, rolling her eyes. Duke gave a huff.

“Yeah, once we spent a thousand dollars in one night,” she said. Veronica gaped at her.

“What the _fuck_?”

“She’s lying!” McNamara said, touching Veronica on the shoulder. “That never happened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Veronica grunted, looking relieved that it was just a joke. The Heathers just laughed, leaving Veronica to pout at them. “This is what I meant before. You’re all _mean_.”

“You’re just really fun to mess with,” Chandler snickered, shooting her a smirk. Veronica held her gaze for a moment.

“ _Am_ I now?”

Duke arched her brow when Chandler’s smirk dropped. A confusing, yet satisfying sight.

“Can she teach me how to do that?” she whispered into McNamara’s ear. She turned to face her with an unreadable expression.

“I doubt it,” she replied. Duke pouted disappointedly.

“Dammit.”

A warm giggle sounded from the blonde. One that almost convinced Duke that tonight wasn’t going to be a trainwreck.

But that soon ended when the waitress came over to their table, asking for drinks. Chandler and McNamara hadn’t even bothered looking at the menu yet, though apparently McNamara had already decided what Veronica was going to get.

“Lebanese coffee for this one!” she said, patting Veronica on the shoulder, Veronica just gave a thumbs up.

“Sparkling water,” Duke grunted, not even bothering to look at her other options. She didn’t need to.

“With ice?” the waitress asked. Duke nodded.

“Yeah.”

She hardly paid attention to McNamara order her lemonade, or Chandler ordering brewed coffee. Instead she just let her eyes gaze over the menu in front of her, though none of the words registered in her brain. She didn’t necessarily want to read any of her options right now. If at all.

Her brain was busy trying to block out the mouth-watering sells wafting around her, threatening to lure her into temptation.

 _It’s gonna happen tonight,_ she told herself in the most brooding inner voice she could muster. _I don’t even know why I’m trying to resist anything._

Despite that thought, she still kept her menu shut, while the three other girls were all reading over them with interest.

“Jesus, why is this sixty dollars?” Veronica gasped at one point. Chandler let out a scoff as she leaned over her shoulder to peek at whatever she was looking at.

“Because it’s for four people, dipshit.”

“Oh.”

She could vaguely hear McNamara giggle at that.

“Maybe we can get that! There’s four of us.” She leaned over Veronica’s other shoulder. “What’s in it?”

“Skewered meat,” Veronica replied.

“Interesting,” McNamara said, before shuffling back over to Duke, who finally lifted her head off of her hand to look a little bit more alive for her. “Heather, should we get these to share?” She held out her own menu in front of her, revealing all the options available, none of which Duke actually wanted.

A hand pointed to one of the options under the dishes column, whatever the name of the actual dish, Duke didn’t know. She wasn’t looking at words, only numbers.

 _Too high_.

“I don’t fancy those,” she replied dryly. McNamara didn’t seem phased, thank God.

“That’s alright! It’s your birthday, after all.”

The chippy tone was enough to make the corner of Duke’s mouth quirk up, if not for a second.

“I might have seafood, y’know,” Veronica said, to which McNamara made a gagging noise.

“Gross.”

“You don’t like seafood?”

“No. It’s dry and flavourless.”

“I’ll fight you on that.”

“You’d lose instantly.”

Both Veronica and McNamara burst out laughing.

Duke just watched them, deadpanning the whole time.

She was only broken out of her thoughts when a large glass of bubbling clear liquid was placed in front of her, ice floating around the surface. A lemon had also been put on the side of the glass, though she knew she wouldn’t be using it.

“Thanks,” she said to the waitress, who also placed McNamara’s drink in front of her.

“Both of your drinks are on the way,” she told Veronica and Chandler who both nodded at her.

Once she was gone, Veronica turned to Duke.

“I see you’re still committing immoral acts,” she said, pointing at her sparkling water.

Ugh. Not this again.

“Grow up,” she muttered, sipping from the straw and letting the bubbling sensation numb her tongue.

“Hey, Heather, wanna try some of mine?” McNamara asked, nudging her glass towards her. “It’s really good.”

Duke debated actually taking a sip for a moment. Because it _did_ look fancy, and probably tasted as good as it was expensive.

But unlike her own drink, numbers were involved.

“No thanks,” she replied. When McNamara looked a little disappointed, she added, “I’d rather not need a mega-piss later.”

That seemed to convince her to let out a huff of laughter. Coast clear.

“So, Heather.”

Duke looked up at the unexpected sound of Chandler’s voice.

“Yeah?”

Chandler leaned forward a little bit, her head resting on the back of her hand.

“Planning anything else for your birthday?” She batted her lashes at her. “A party, by any chance?”

Duke gave a hum, then shrugged.

“Maybe. Though I might just conjoin it with a Christmas party for convenience.”

Chandler gave a “hmph” to signal some sort of agreement, which was somewhat odd to hear from her straight after something that had come from her mouth.

“I suppose. Especially considering that you’ll have to throw it at _my_ house.”

Duke gave a groan. “Yeah, I know.” _I get it. Your house is bigger and your parents don’t breathe down your throat constantly._

“We _could_ have it at my house,” McNamara suggested. “It’s just as big.”

Duke wasn’t sure if she saw her grateful smile.

“Yeah, but I can predict when my parents are home and when they’re not. You can’t.”

McNamara pouted. “Yeah, I suppose.”

_At least I enjoy being with Mac._

Their conversation was again, interrupted by the waitress bringing Chandler and Veronica their beverages. They looked goddamn fancy - especially Veronica’s. They smelled pretty good too.

Which is why Duke leaned back as far as she could. She didn’t need a fucking temptation.

“God, that’s right though,” Veronica grumbled. “I need to get everyone Christmas presents soon.”

“Make sure it’s expensive,” Chandler told her, snickering. Veronica glared at her.

“I have other friends too!”

“And you’re not that rich,” Duke added, grinning slyly at her. Veronica deadpanned back at her.

“Compared to you guys,” she corrected her.

“It doesn’t have to be expensive,” McNamara said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Veronica gave her a smile.

“Thanks, Mara, at least _one_ of you understands.” She gave her a hug, all the while staring Chandler and Duke down. “Ironic, since you’re the richest out of all of them.”

Duke just gave a huff. “You fall for her sweet-talk too much, V.”

Veronica released McNamara from her hold to give her a puzzled look. Duke gave a smug grin.

“She’s trying to make it so that she wins best present.”

“Hey!” McNamara protested.

Chandler gave a laugh. “Heather’s right.” _Wow. Never thought I’d hear those words come out your mouth._ “Every fucking time you try and _win_ the best present.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a competition, Mac.”

McNamara gave a scoff. “If I wasn’t so good at finding presents, you’d _so_ be on board.” She smiled at her innocently. “You don’t because you know you’d lose.”

Duke let out a cackle when Chandler let out an indignant squawk.

“Fucking good one, Mac,” Duke praised, holding up her hand for a high five. McNamara smiled at her, then hit her palm eagerly. The triumph was short-lived, however, since she could already feel the icy glare stuck to her.

“For the last time, Heather, only _I_ can call Mac ‘Mac’.”

“...Mac,” Veronica then said, smirking at her. Duke snickered when Chandler scowled back at her.

“Mac,” Duke added.

“Mac,” Veronica said again.

“Mac.”

“Mac.”

“Mac.”

“ _Shut the hell up,_ ” Chandler then snapped, leaving Veronica and Duke cackling. Then Veronica let out a dramatic gasp.

“Did you just _break_ your _truce_?”

Chandler glared at her. “No, because I was telling _you_ to shut up.”

Veronica gave a pout. “ _Just_ me?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Veronica turned to Duke and grinned. “Quick, keep it going.”

As tempting as that sounded, Duke shook her head. “Sorry, I’d rather get out tonight _alive_.” She avoided looking at Chandler’s reaction by sipping her drink. “Anyway, presents, huh?”

“No hints!” McNamara blurted out. “Mine’s a surprise.”

Duke gave a purposely petty frown. “What a tease.”

She heard Veronica snicker at that. She arched a brow at her.

“What’s so funny?”

Veronica glanced at her, eyes a little wide.

“Nothing!”

Duke shot her an odd look. “Okay…” She took another sip. “So, what have you got me? Or is this a _surprise_ as well?”

Veronica’s jaw hung open for a moment.

“Uh…”

Duke gave a chortle. “Let me guess, you haven’t gotten me one yet.”

Veronica pursed her lips and slowly nodded, looking slightly guilty. Duke snickered, then let out a dramatic sigh.

“And here I thought you cared!” she crooned. Veronica frowned at her.

“I _do_ care!” she protested. “I just don’t know what to get you!”

Duke sniggered to herself, all the while McNamara gave a proud huff. “See, she knows _I_ care because I’ve been planning on getting this present for a while.”

Duke’s heart felt a little warmer when she said that.

“See, _Heather_ cares,” she said, grinning. Veronica pouted at her.

“ _I_ care!”

Duke was soaking up these compliments as if they were her life source. She gave a brash grin as she waited for more, but was met with a brief silence. Then,

“Ow!”

She looked over to Chandler, who was rubbing her arm after being elbowed by Veronica. It took all of Duke’s power to not burst out laughing right there and then.

“ _What?_ ” Chandler asked, glaring at Veronica. Veronica just rolled her eyes and grabbed Chandler by the arms, making her freeze.

“Why _yes_ , Heather!” she began, her voice growing a little higher and less rough to match Chandler’s. “Of _course_ I care about you and have a _great_ idea for a present and I cherish our friendship so much that I still have photos of us in middle school on my vanity!” While she said that, she moved her arms around in frantic movements.

Chandler snarled at her. “ _Off_ ,” she hissed, snatching her arms back. Veronica just chuckled.

“That last part’s true, by the way,” she said, glancing at Duke, before taking a sip of her coffee. Then she gasped. “ _Woah_ , this is good fucking coffee!”

McNamara gave a giggle. “Told you!”

Duke vaguely recalled the two of them getting lost in a conversation of their own, but what it was about, she could only take guesses. She was too busy looking over to Chandler, slightly stunned that there was _some_ truth in what Veronica had said.

Chandler had pursed her lips into a tight line, averting her gaze from Duke. Duke simply continued to stare, waiting for those blue eyes to land on her green, eager to shoot her a sly grin in response.

When she did lock gazes with her, however, she couldn’t bring herself to. She instead just gazed at her with what she could only hope was a blank expression rather than one of awe.

Because truth be told, she’d believe it when she sees it.

The eye contact was brief, both of them breaking away to sip their own drinks.

 

* * *

 

“Do they have a pink one of those?”

Duke jumped at the sound of Chandler’s voice close behind her. She spun around, holding a red cardigan that she had yet to read the label of.

“Don’t know, I haven’t checked.”

“I’m gonna look! It’s a really nice cardigan.”

Duke smiled at her. “Thanks!”

She watched as she began to dig through the clothing rack, reaching close to the back of the row of cardigans before letting out a long sigh.

“Nope, they don’t.”

Duke gave a sympathetic pout, before glancing at her label.

Ugh. This was too big for her. Just like pretty much everything she wanted to wear.

Then she looked up at Chandler, then back at the red cardigan, then back at her again.

And in looking at the bright red next to the soft pink, she came up with an idea.

“Hey, is this your size?” she asked, handing her the cardigan. Chandler furrowed her brow, but took hold of it anyway. She glanced at the label and nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

Duke grinned. “You should try it on!”

Chandler raised her brows at that. “Me?” She gave the cardigan a doubtful look. “Would it suit me?”

“Try it on and find out!”

Chandler gave a thoughtful hum, then slipped it on her shoulders. Duke stepped back to get a better look at her, and she gasped.

She was right - it went really well with her pink dress.

“You look amazing in it!” she exclaimed, grinning. Chandler smiled at her.

“I need a mirror,” she said, looking around the store. Duke did the same, and her eyes came across on on a wall. She tugged Chandler by the sleeve in that direction, getting her to follow on. She stepped back to let her view herself in the mirror, and she couldn’t hold back a smile when her face lit up.

“You’re right! It does fit!” She did a little twirl, her dress flowing around her in an angelic motion. Then she looked at Duke again. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” She glanced at the mirror. “Because if you don’t, I’m totally getting it.”

Duke shook her head. “Nah. It’s too big for me.”

Chandler gave a thankful smile, before looking at her reflection again. Duke came to stand next to her, seeing her own reflection as well.

She admitted, she did _want_ the cardigan, but there were none her size. Besides, she was already wearing red, as usual - a red shirt with denim overalls, to be exact.

But in looking at herself standing next to Chandler, she couldn’t help but think that it was for the best that she gave it to her. If she were being honest, she looked _stunning_ in the clothing. It went so well with her dress, as well as her bright ginger curls.

Better than it did against her dull blue dress and her straight black hair. Suddenly she looked like a mess.

She was quick to move away from the mirror again, feeling somewhat embarrassed to stand in the same spotlight as Heather Chandler.

“I have more red clothes at home,” Duke then said, catching Chandler’s attention. “A lot of it’s too big for me, so if you want any of it, you can have it.”

Chandler widened her eyes. “Really?”

Duke nodded.

“Thanks!” she said, grinning excitedly. “Maybe it’ll be good to start the new year in a new outfit!”

Duke took note of that, and her eyes widened a little.

“Does that mean you’re getting rid of your dress?”

Chandler glanced at her.

“No, no, I just mean more variety.” She slipped the cardigan off to look at it first-hand. “I feel like a bit of red won’t do any harm.”

“Of course not,” Duke said, coming to stand by her again, only this time she was able to face away from the mirror. “Maybe I should, too?”

“Add more red?”

“No, I mean,” she glanced down at her outfit, cringing when comparing it to Chandler’s. “I mean… just a newer outfit.”

A sudden clattering noise made Duke look up again, and she looked over to a circular clothing rack which appeared to be moving by itself. Duke was about to question it, but her answer came when a familiar face poked out of it.

“I say do it!” McNamara said, smiling at her. “I’ve always thought that red and blue don’t really go together.”

Duke tried not to frown - in all the time she’d known McNamara over the past year, she’s come to learn that sometimes she’ll say things she doesn’t mean.

Actually, no, she _does_ mean them, she just doesn’t know how to sugarcoat them.

“So… what should I do?” Duke asked. McNamara gave a shrug.

“More red? I don’t know.” Then she disappeared back into the clothing rack, leaving her alone with Chandler.

She turned back to Heather when she heard her gasp. “What if we get matching outfits?” she suggested, grabbing her wrists in an excitable manner. Duke raised her brows at this.

“Matching?” she echoed. “But… everyone at school already calls us-”

“Yeah, I know, _clones_ ,” Chandler muttered, rolling her eyes. “But what do they know?” She gave her a grin. “Come on, let’s go find something!”

Duke didn’t have a chance to reply before she was getting dragged off around the store, pulled to all sorts of different clothing. Blazers, cardigans, skirts, you name it. It seems like every time they did, however, they just couldn’t find clothes that would both match and be nice enough to fit in both of their sizes at the same time.

Of course it wouldn’t.

“What about…” Chandler rummaged through a clothing rack. “These?” She brought out two blazers, both the same colour, but slightly different styles. One of them was notable smaller than the other - that one obviously being Duke’s.

She took hold of it and observed it. A bright red blazer with golden buttons, with thick, yet smooth fabric. Her size, too.

Then she looked over to Chandler’s. Her blazer was just as red, only a little tighter around the waist with one button holding it together.

Duke didn’t need to see her wear it to know it would look great on her. _Everything_ looked great on her. And she knew for a fact that wasn’t just an irrational thought; everyone in school agreed with her.

Everyone knew she was beautiful.

“These would look great!” Chandler declared, grinning. “I can’t wait to show these off.” She walked over to Duke to rest her arm over her shoulder - an easy thing to do, with how Duke only came up to her shoulder height. “I’m sure everyone will agree.”

Duke sheepishly smiled at her. “You think so?” She then gave a snort. “Because everyone who I’ve met at our school so far has turned out to be an asshole.”

Chandler gave a dramatic gasp. “You _swore_ .” She placed a hand over her mouth, as if shocked. “And here I thought you were _innocent_.”

Duke snickered. “I blame _you_.” She poked her on the nose, luring a giggle out of her. “Hanging out with you almost every day for a year has turned me into a walking rebel.”

“ _Must_ you shift the blame onto me?” she cried. “And here I thought we were best friends.”

 _Best friends._ Duke couldn’t hold back a smile. It wasn’t the first time Heather had referred to her in such a way - she’d done so plenty of times. But she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get tired of it.

She wasn’t sure if she would ever get tired of being considered _special_ in Heather Chandler’s eyes.

“Only true best friends give it to you straight!” Duke replied, grinning. “And here I’m telling you that you’re a bad influence.”

“Boo hoo,” Chandler retorted playfully, pouting. “If you don’t want my influence, then I don’t _have_ to buy you that blazer,” she then said, giving her a cheeky smirk. Duke gave a gasp of betrayal.

“You’re so _cruel_ , using _threats_ .” She moved the blazer away from her, the corner of her mouth still quirking up. “Ever tried being _nice_ to get what you want?”

Chandler let out a scoff. “You know as well as I do that that shit doesn’t work,” she retorted, reaching for the blazer. “Not in our school, anyway.”

Duke registered her tone as one that was joking, but in looking at the dispirited glint in her usual bright blue orbs, she knew that there was truth to her words. Harsh truth.

“Hey,” she then said, handing her the blazer. Chandler looked at her, that glint now hidden by a shimmering light. If someone had looked at her then, and only then, they’d never notice anything wrong about her. But Duke knew what was hidden underneath. “Are you… looking forward to going back to school?”

Chandler blinked at her, her smile now gone. It wasn’t a frown, just an expression of someone who had been caught off guard.

“Have you ever met _anyone_ who looks forward to going to school, Heather?”

Duke pursed her lips.

“Well, no, but-”

“Exactly.” She gave an amused huff. “Of course I’m not looking forward to going back.” She gave an eye roll. Duke furrowed her brow.

“I _mean_ , are you…” She twiddled her thumbs, looking away from Chandler as she tried to think of the right words. “Are you dreading going back?”

This time Chandler did frown. She fell silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor and scampering around it as she tried to think up an answer.

“Maybe ‘dreading’ isn’t the right word,” Chandler said. “More like a, ‘I can’t be arsed with this crap.’”

She then began to lead Duke down the aisles, almost aimlessly.

“What exactly is the ‘crap,’ though?” Duke asked. “Is it the-”

“ _Everything!_ ” Chandler suddenly snapped, making Duke flinch. Her tone then softened. “Just… everything. Every _one_.” She gave a disheartened look, and Duke frowned. “They’re all so… so…”

“Tiring?” Duke guessed.

“Yes, tiring!” Chandler gave a groan. “Especially those two kids, Kurt and Ram! _Gosh_ they’re annoying!”

Duke let out an amused huff. “Tell me about it.”

“Do I _need_ to?” Chandler looked back at her. “Remember in April when they made fun of Mac for not picking up on a sarcastic compliment that _they_ made?” She snarled. “Fucking assholes.”

Duke couldn’t help but scowl at that memory too. Kurt had come up to McNamara one day and told her that she was _so intelligent_ in the most sarcastic voice he could muster, and poor, oblivious McNamara had been unable to pick up on it. Everyone thought it was _oh so funny_. As a result of relentless teasing, McNamara had to hide out with her and Chandler in a bathroom for the rest of lunch, and Duke wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Chandler be more scary.

_***_

_“I didn’t realise they were picking on me!”_ _McNamara cried, nestling into Chandler’s chest and clinging onto her magenta shirt desperately. “I thought they… I thought-”_

_“They’re dicks!” Duke proclaimed. “That was real mean of them, Emmy.”_

_McNamara peered at her and gave a weak nod in agreement._

_“Fuck them all!” Chandler hissed, holding the weeping brunette as close to her as she could. “I’d punch them in the mouth if I could.”_

_“You might have to hold me back from doing just that,” Duke said, folding her arms over her chest tightly. Chandler gave a pleading gaze._

_“Don’t. No offense, but they could beat you into a pulp.” She gently stroked the brown silky hair of McNamara, not noticing the twinge of embarrassment in Duke’s eye. “Just stay here. It’s not like they can come into the girl’s bathroom.”_

_Duke gave a shrug, as to silently agree with her._

_“Am I really dumb, Heather?” McNamara asked, gazing up at her with a watery hazel gaze. “Am I-”_

_“No! Of course you aren’t!” Chandler cut in, holding her close. “They were just being assholes!”_

_“Heather’s right, Heather,” Duke said. “Dicks will be dicks.”_

_It looked like McNamara was going to speak again, with how she glanced over her shoulder at Duke, but she was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open._

_All three heads turned to see two girls - two of whom were in their grade, by the looks of it. One had brown hair, the other a dirty blonde._

_“Oh, were we interrupting something?” the brunette said. Her words_ sounded _nice, but Duke could easily tell that she was being insincere, if that faux look of concern on her face was to give anything away._

_“Yes,” Chandler muttered, refusing to let go of McNamara._

_“Oh, is she_ still _crying over that?” the dirty blonde then said, eyeing McNamara, who shrank away from her. Duke’s nose scrunched up at that, and if looks could kill, Chandler would be a murderer._

_“Fuck off. She’s upset,” she hissed at them. The two girls gave them an odd, inconsiderate look._

_“Grow a sense of humour,” the brunette told her, smirking._

_Duke would’ve snapped back with a sharp retort, but Chandler suddenly releasing McNamara, nudging her over to Duke instead, caught her attention. She allowed McNamara to latch onto her arm, and simply watched as Chandler took a step forward._

_“Get out,” she growled in a low, threatening voice that even shook Duke to the bone. The girls seemed a little startled by her, even taking a step away, but they held their ground._

_“You don’t_ own _the bathroom, you kno-”_

 _“_ Get out! _” she repeated, her voice a near screech. It seemed to strike enough fear in them to silence them both, followed by them fleeing from the bathroom. Duke widened her eyes at the whole scene, almost pitying the two bitches._

 _She’d seen Chandler angry before, but at no point had Duke considered her_ scary _._

_And in some odd sense, she both admired and feared this odd side to her. On one hand, she wouldn’t want to have to deal with that. Ever. But on the other hand…_

_Chandler turned around to McNamara again, her ferocious expression replaced by one of concern. She held out her hands again, waiting for McNamara to return to her hold, and that’s exactly what she did. Her ice cold demeanor had melted into a warm, protective figure, one that both McNamara and Duke could rely on._

_Duke wasn’t on the receiving end of her protective side. She was on the side that Chandler was protecting._

_She was fine with that. Fuck everyone else in this school, she decided. They’re all heartless assholes._

_And sure, Chandler could be an asshole, too, as she had just witnessed. But at least she was an asshole with a heart._

_***_

“It’s a good thing you’re not scared of Kurt and Ram like everyone else is,” Duke said as Chandler peaked through the clothing racks, searching for any signs of McNamara. “Otherwise they’d have our asses too.”

Chandler let out a huff of laughter. “Gosh, you’re swearing so much these days.” She looked up from the clothing rack and over to her. “Have I really turned you into a true resident of Ohio?”

“Yes.”

They both giggled, and Chandler held out her hand in a loose fit. Duke immediately caught on, and happily returned to handshake. Then Chandler returned to her search. Duke just let her eyes wander, up until they landed on the clothes in her hands. And in looking at them, Duke couldn’t help but smile.

She could see it now. Walking into school, their second year. She and Chandler both in bright red, both a decoration and an eyesore to everyone around them.

Perhaps they could figure out how to be untouchable. Together.

 

* * *

 

This was getting really goddamn difficult.

Duke had two goals right now: one, save the drink in front of her as best as she can in order to let it last as long as she could make it. Two, use said drink to stop the pain that was clawing at her insides.

Two conflicting ideas, and only one of them was winning the battle.

The latter, to be specific.

Not that sparkling water was the best for soothing hunger pains - that was a job for regular water. Ice cold regular water.

_Wait. Ice._

She glanced up at the three girls around the table, currently caught up in some conversation that she had tuned out of long ago. None of them were looking her way.

She took that opportunity to shove her hand into her glass, grabbing a block of cold ice that was floating around on the surface of her drink, then shoved it into her mouth. Drops of water rolled down her chin, but she hardly cared. She easily wiped them off with the back of her hand.

The ice was quick to numb her tongue, freezing her mouth as it slowly began to melt. She held it in place for a moment, wondering if it was wiser to let it melt by itself, or otherwise.

But when a waiter walked past with some other table’s meals, the warm scent of meat slamming into her nostrils and crawling down her throat, close to choking her, before reaching the empty pit that was her stomach, she could feel the pain intensify. It felt like needles stabbing her goddamn organs.

She let herself bite down on the ice, a loud crunch ripping through her skull. Fuck, the ice was hard and cold and it was beginning to hurt to keep it in her mouth, but she ignored it. All she really wanted was to stop the fucking pain threatening to dig its way out and into her throat.

She’d hardy finished crunching up the ice between her teeth before she swallowed it, the sharp edges scratching at her mouth on the way down.

“Heather?”

The sound of her name made her flinch. At first, she thought Veronica might’ve been referring to Chandler or McNamara, but when looking her way, she locked eyes with her.

“Yeah?”

Veronica furrowed her brow. “Did you hear what I said?

Fuck. Did she say something?

“No. Speak louder.”

Veronica fluttered her lashes at her.

“I said, is there anything you want for Christmas?” she replied. “Or your birthday, for that matter. Not too late to choose.”

Duke stared at her for a moment longer, thinking about the question for a moment.

“Dunno,” she eventually answered. “Accessories? Jewellry? Shit like that.” She shrugged. “Go wild.”

Suddenly someone came up to the table, yet again. This time the waitress had returned with their starters.

And by “their starters,” she meant _them_.

As soon as the waitress was gone, Chandler let out a grunt.

“Finally. I’m fucking starving.”

 _Cry me a river_ , was Duke’s immediate thought, but she dare not say it out loud. Truce or not, she knew there would be hell to pay if she were to insult Chandler.

“Me too!” McNamara said, immediately biting into her dish. Duke let her head fall into her hand, blocking her view from McNamara, and even a little bit of Veronica, but Chandler was still in her full view, thanks to her sitting opposite her. She let out a quiet groan that only she could hear, since it rumbled in her throat.

That rumbling was accompanied by _another_ rumbling, one more painful to bare. She let out a hiss, before reaching into her glass to grab another block of ice.

Her hunger would have to wait a bit longer. Was it that fucking difficult?

“Uh… Heather?”

Her mouth was currently being frozen by a block of ice, so replying to Veronica with words wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Mmm?”

Veronica tilted her head a little. “Are you eating ice?”

“Ya.” She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop the block from falling out. “Why?”

Veronica gave a quizzical look.

“Nothing. Just… uh…” She looked down at her plate. “If you’re hungry, you can always have some of mine.” She lifted her plate off the table in preparation to hand it to her, only to be shut down.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, before biting down on the ice in her mouth.

Veronica paused for a moment, before slowly placing her plate back on the table. Duke let out a sigh of relief, before shuddering when the coldness of the ice shot through her body. She was quick to swallow it, eager to numb the gnawing in her stomach.

Alas, it was only temporary, because with each breath she took in, she could both smell and _taste_ the food in front of her, drowning out the water she continued to drink desperately.

 _Go away,_ she wanted to hiss at her body. _Just for tonight, just fucking leave me alone._

“Heather?”

She snapped her head up at the sound of McNamara’s hushed voice. She turned to look at her, though there was no need to move any closer, since she had shifted around the seat to lean over to her.

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

Duke stared at her for a moment.

“Why’d you ask?”

McNamara pursed her lips.

“You were being really quiet.”

Duke stared at her for even longer.

“I’m tired,” she replied dryly. It wasn’t a lie, either.

McNamara furrowed her brow. “Is that it?”

Duke paused, before slowly nodding.

“Yeah.” _No._

“...Alright,” she finally relented, shuffling back over to Veronica. Duke finally allowed herself to breathe, then look at her swatch.

_Hold on for a couple more hours. Just a couple more hours. You can do that, right?_

She silently scoffed at herself.

_If you can’t, that’s pretty pathetic._

 

* * *

 

“Have you seen Heather anywhere?”

Duke turned to face McNamara, who had a concerned look on her face. Duke just shook her head.

“Not yet.” She glanced around the cafeteria. “She’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

McNamara gave a nod, before returning to glancing around the cafeteria on a frantic search for Heather. Duke just watched, amused by how lost she looked without the girl sitting next to her, despite not actually being alone.

“Hey, calm down,” she huffed, catching her attention. “Like I said, she’ll be here soon enough.”

McNamara frowned, but sank back into her chair anyway. Duke returned to her lunch, ignoring how flavourless it tasted. Not that she expected _good_ food from a school cafeteria, by any means, but hey, would be nice to get some flavour in there, right?

Still watching McNamara act as restless as ever, a magenta and red figure flew past her and around the table, sitting down next to the brunette. McNamara’s face seemed to light up in seeing Chandler finally make an appearance.

“Told ya,” Duke said, her mouth full with watery pasta. “Hey, Heather,” she greeted.

Chandler didn’t look up though. Instead, she held her head up with her hands, her cheeks buried in her palms and her ginger curls flopping over her face. Duke furrowed a brow, confused and a little unnerved by her silence.

“ _Hey_ , Heather,” she repeated, hoping to get an answer from her.

Still nothing. Only blue eyes stuck to the table in front of her.

Duke frowned, then looked over to McNamara, who looked over to her. She looked as concerned as she was.

“Heather, are you-”

“I’m fine,” Chandler cut McNamara off immediately, turning her head away from her. McNamara shrank in her seat, still looking worried.

Meanwhile, Duke had picked up the uncertainty in Chandler’s voice, with how it was lower than usual, cracking on occasion.

“Are you sure?” Duke asked, leaning forward a little. “Because you seem-”

“ _Yes_ , Heather.”

The sudden harshness in her tone was enough to shut her mouth. Not that she hadn’t heard her snap at anyone before - far from it.

She just wasn’t used to it being aimed at her.

“Well, um…” Duke began twiddling her thumbs. “Since tomorrow’s Friday and all, I was wondering if you wanted to do any more music practice?” She glanced at her hopefully. Chandler still didn’t look at her, and she frowned. “Or we could read instead, if that’s what you’d prefer to-”

“I don’t feel like it,” she cut in with a mutter. Duke furrowed her brow.

“As in… you don’t feel like reading, or-”

“ _No_ , just, I don’t…” She grasped her ginger locks in a violent manner. “I don’t want to!”

Duke stared at her, feeling a pit of disappointment well up in her gut.

“But on Monday you said-”

“I _know_ what I said on Monday!” Chandler suddenly snapped her head up to face her, eyes blazing. “On Monday I wanted to! Right now I don’t! I changed my mind!” She fell back into her seat, her elbows hitting the table with a _thunk_. Duke just stared at her, startled at her outburst.

“Ugh... “ Chandler angrily blew some hair out of her face. “Mac, do you have a clip I can borrow?”

Mac gave a nod, then reached into her pocket to pull out a yellow bow clip. Chandler gave a grunt that was supposed to be a “thanks,” before catching the ginger locks threatening to blind her and holding them back with the clip.

Just as her hands dropped back onto the table, a group of preteens in their grade walked behind Chandler and Mac. Duke would’ve thought nothing of it, had they not slowed down and slapped a hand over Chandler’s head. She was put off by the whole thing; even angered. But she couldn’t even think about reacting before Chandler whipped her head around to glare at them.

“Who did that?” she spat. The group laughed.

“Bet you’re hoping it was a girl,” a boy said, cackling crudely. Duke widened her eyes a little, confused by the whole scenario. And when she looked over to McNamara, she was probably just as puzzled.

“Fuck off,” Chandler muttered, her gaze darkening a little. The group then stopped to turn back to her, looking smug, and somewhat threatening to Duke.

“What did you say, _dyke_?”

Second-hand fear struck Duke, making her freeze up. She could only look at Chandler, who looked like a deer paralyzed in headlights, before she stood up.

“I said-” she reached over to Duke’s plate to grab it, “- _fuck off!_ ”

Before Duke could say anything, Chandler launched her plate at the group, seemingly aiming at no one in particular - she only wanted it to hit _someone_. Maybe several people.

And that’s what it did.

A girl that had been standing in front got the worst - watery bolognese splattered all over her dress, as well as some friends that had been standing next to her. Meanwhile the plate itself went flying to whoever was standing behind them, hitting one guy on the head and creating an audible thunk. The whole scene was enough to turn the heads of the many students surrounding them, looking both confused and intrigued.

Whatever their expressions, Duke couldn’t register. She was still staring at Chandler, who was fuming, still glaring at the group that had insulted her. They all looked stunned, and probably like a laughing stock to the rest of the cafeteria. Duke knew she _would’ve_ laughed at their misery, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t even involved in whatever the fuck this was, and yet she could feel every pair of eyes burning into her skin.

Then Chandler turned back to her, as well as McNamara, before shoving her seat out of from the table to let herself out, and began to storm off to the doors leading out of the cafeteria, not even giving her or McNamara a second glance.

And in staring at the empty space in front of her, where her plate had been, Duke couldn’t help but feel a _little_ bit offended. But she swallowed that feeling back down wherever it had come from - it wasn’t Heather who had caused the scene, after all.

She then felt a tug on her red sleeve, and saw that McNamara had made her way around the table and over to her, and was now signalling her to get up and follow. Duke did exactly that, and they weaved around the students who were all snickering among themselves about what had just went down. Duke did her utmost best to ignore them.

Once out of the cafeteria, Duke and McNamara found themselves stuck. They weren’t sure where Chandler had disappeared to, and it was apparent to both of them that they had no idea where to start.

“Bathroom?” McNamara suggested. Duke gave a shrug - she had no better ideas.

They both scurried to the closest girl’s bathroom, peered inside, but Chandler was nowhere to be seen. Duke turned to McNamara and told her to check the other bathroom, and the brunette nodded. They trekked around the school until they finally reached it, and Duke was the first one to step inside.

“Heather?” she called, her voice a little timid. At first, it seemed empty, but then she noticed a singular closed stall. “Heather, you in here?” she called again, hoping for an answer.

The two girls were met with silence for a while. Then the closed door clicked, and out stepped Heather Chandler. She held a dull, clouded gaze, with her shoulders slumped and her eyes staring at the tiled floor. Duke frowned.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and looking away from her.

“What happened back there?” she asked. “Why did they call you a…”

“Because they’re _assholes_ ,” she spat bitterly. She turned back to her and McNamara with a damaged version of her usual confident and enthusiastic demeanor. “Don’t act so _surprised_ ,” she muttered, locking gazes with Duke. “We’ve been here for almost two years. We’ve seen it all.” She shrugged. “I’m so fucking tired of this shithole.”

Duke bit her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“We’ll be out soon,” she eventually said, walking over to her to place a hand on her shoulder. “We can hold on for a little longer, right?”

Chandler pursed her lips into a tight line, before shooting Duke a glare.

“Except we _won’t_ !” she cried. “You really think _high school_ will be any better? Do you _honestly_ believe that?”

Duke froze under those fiery blue orbs, letting those words hit her until they _stung_.

“It just goes downhill from here,” she muttered, breaking her gaze away and stalking over to the sink. “Fuck if I know if I’ll be able to take much more of this.” She gazed her her reflection, all the while Duke could only watch in silence.

Then she turned back around to face them both again.

“Sorry for throwing your lunch,” she said, her tone softening a little, though Duke could still hear the edge in her voice. “Wasn’t really sure what else to throw.”

Duke’s mouth twitched. “A chair.”

Chandler arched a brow. “You think I could throw a chair?”

Duke shrugged. “I dunno, I would’ve preferred it though.” She crossed her arms. “Now I’m gonna end up hungry.”

She got an eye roll for a reply, followed by a,

“Sorry, I grabbed the nearest thing to me.”

Duke raised her brows. “I still think the chair would’ve been a better option.”

“No!” McNamara chimed in. “That would’ve broken their skulls!”

Duke slowly turned to her.

“I know.”

McNamara widened her eyes at her, looking as if she thought she was serious. Duke tried to hold a straight face for as long as she could manage, but Chandler letting out a cackle broke her. She turned back to her, relieved to see a smile on her face again.

“God, you’re _evil_ ,” she said, grinning at her. Duke just gasped.

“Watch out, Heather, you just said God's name in vain.”

Chandler raised her brows a little, before giving a scoff.

“Fuck it.”

Duke snickered at her. “Wow, you really _are_ living on the edge.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, leaning back against the basin. “I guess I am.” She then turned back around to face the mirror again. “Hm…”

“What is it?” Duke asked, walking over to her. In getting a view of her reflection from over her shoulder, she saw her trail a finger over the bridge of her nose.

“I’m just thinking,” she mused. Duke tilted her head.

“About what?”

The corners of her mouth dropped again, and her eyes avoided those of Duke’s reflection.

“Just…” She bit her lip, then readjusted the clip holding her hair out of her face. “I’ll figure something out.”

Duke furrowed her brow in confusion. “Figure what out?”

Chandler shook her head. “How we’ll get through this fucking year.” She turned back around, her gaze landing on McNamara. “It keeps giving us shit.”

Duke grimaced, but couldn’t stop herself from nodding in agreement.

“Um... “ she began, twiddling her fingers. “Well, uh, do you still want to go to your house?” she looked at her hopefully. “To do more music, I mean.”

Chandler held her gaze for a moment, before frowning, then turning back to her reflection.

“I… I’d like to, but…” Her head hung. “I don’t think I can.”

Duke’s smile dropped.

“Why not?”

“I have other plans.” She gave a shrug, still not looking up at her or even her own reflection. “Sorry.” She finally turned back to look at her. “Some other time?”

Duke forced a smile, slowly nodding.

“Good.” She gave her a pat on the shoulder. Duke just stared at her.

“Why can’t you come?”

Chandler shot her an odd look.

“I just can’t,” she replied dryly. “Is that a problem, or…?”

Duke shrugged.

“No, I just…”

“We can do it some other time,” Chandler told her. “I just have some plans already, is all.”

“Oh.” Duke gave a grunt, trying to hide her disappointment with as much indifference as she could muster within her expression. “Uh… alright.”

Chandler shot her a half-hearted smile, before beginning to make her way to the door. Duke watched her go, watching at how McNamara immediately latched onto her as soon as she walked past her.

Duke spared one last glance in the mirror, this time looking at her own reflection again, locking eyes with a dejected green stare.

She brushed some stray black hairs out of her face, before scampering on behind Chandler and McNamara and being lead to God knows where in the school.

Probably somewhere where they could be alone, away from the rest of the school.

Because Chandler was right. The school really is a shithole.

 

* * *

 

Fuck, she was out of water.

Duke desperately tipped the glass straight down into her mouth, catching the final drop of liquid that had been stuck to the bottom of the glass. Once she knew nothing else was going to come out, she groaned to herself, before slamming the glass onto the table again, shoving the straw back inside. She watched it swerve around the glass, until it stilled. Then she blew at it, watching it spin around the glistening rim again, then waited until it stopped.

She thought about blowing at it yet again, but decided against it, finding herself already bored with the same view.

Instead, she decided to occupy herself with the hands on her swatch, watching the thinnest hand flicking around in a clockwise motion.

Just hold on. A little bit longer. Just two more meals. It’ll be over, and you can pat yourself on the ba-

“Oh! Is that our food coming?” Veronica exclaimed, looking over to a waiter carrying dishes that matched their order.

McNamara did a little excited bounce in her seat. “Finally! I’m _so_ hungry.”

Duke could feel her body agree with her, but she swallowed that urge down as best as she could with her own saliva. It didn’t actually do much, but it was worth a shot.

She begrudgingly shoved her glass out of the way to make room for the plate that was going to be forced under her nose one way or another, and when it hit the table, she held her breath.

Just as the waiter was about to leave, she realised something.

“Oh! Uh, could I get a refill?” she called, making the waiter stop in his tracks to turn around walk back over to her.

“Of course. What drink would you li-”

“Water.” She held up the glass towards him, and he hesitantly took it. “Ice as well, if that’s alright.”

He nodded, shooting her a friendly smile, one that Duke forgot to return. Then he left.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

She grinded her teeth together at the sound of Chandler’s voice. It wasn’t even all that taunting, she just _didn’t want to hear those words_.

“No,” she grunted, not even looking up at her.

“You might as well. There are plenty of drinks on the menu.”

Duke bit back a hiss.

“I’m not in the mood for anything else,” she snapped, glaring at her. Chandler arched a brow, looking a little taken aback, but shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” she said, before taking a bite out of her own meal. Duke just rolled her eyes, before returning to staring at nothing.

“Holy fuck,” she heard Veronica mumble with her mouth full. “This is go good.”

“For fuck’s sake, close you goddamn mouth when you eat,” Chandler scolded. Duke looked up just in time to see Veronica playfully flipping her off. Duke allowed herself to chuckle when Chandler rolled her eyes in an irritated fashion.

“So like,” Veronica spoke again, “how long have you all been coming here? Is this Heathers tradition?”

McNamara shook her head. “No, this is more of a Duke thing,” she said, shifting along her seat to nudge Duke with her elbow. “This is her go-to place for dates and all.”

Duke forced a huff of laughter out. “Yeah.”

“Aw, cool, when was the last time you came here?” Veronica asked, leaning towards her with interest. Duke actually had to think about it for a moment, before she remembered and groaned.

“ _Last_ time I came here it was with some ghetto street rat,” she muttered. “We had a really nice night, then he dashed before the check came.” She scowled at the memory.

“I could’ve told you he was no prince,” Chandler said. Duke would’ve gotten angry, but she couldn’t hear the usual mockery in her tone, rather just a playful quip, so she let it slide by giving a matter-of-fact shrug of agreement.

“I guess,” she said. “But it’s not like your taste in guys is any better.”

She expected a scoff or some indignant squawk, but that’s not what she got. Instead, Chandler just glared at her, her gaze growing so cold that it sent a Duke a shiver up her spine.

A deathly silence had fallen on the table for a brief moment, before the waiter returned with her drink. She tore her eyes away from Chandler’s to thank him, then took a nervous sip of the freezing liquid, shivering yet again when the coldness numbed her throat, then giving a sigh of relief when it calmed her raging stomach.

She then dared to peek back over to Chandler, who, to her relief, was no longer looking at her. Instead she was half-looking at Veronica, who had leaned over to her and was whispering something that Duke couldn’t hear. She didn’t really care what it was, all that mattered to her was that whatever Veronica had said had relaxed Chandler’s tensed shoulders, as well as her expression.

Close call.

She took another sip of her water, before placing the glass back on the table.

And with the glass gone, the wave of warm, greasy scent slammed into her, and she cringed.

She finally decided to look down at her meal - an untouched dish sitting next to three other dishes that all had bites taken out of them.

The sight and the smell made her sick.

 _Don’t even think about it_.

“Hey.”

Duke flinched at the sound of McNamara’s voice, now close to her ear. She looked over and saw her sitting right next to her, to the point where their legs were brushing under the table.

“What?” she grunted. McNamara furrowed a brow.

“Are you doing okay?”

Duke stared at her, silently cursing her question for reminding her of the nails digging into the walls of her gut.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

McNamara shot her a doubtful look, one that burned into her skull. She then looked to her plate and visibly swallowed.

“Aren’t you…” She chewed on her lip, and Duke could feel her leg begin to bounce up and down at a rapid pace. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Duke felt something churn in her gut in a painful manner.

 _Yes_ , she thought, _it means I’m doing a good job._

“No,” she replied.

McNamara looked disheartened when she said that, and Duke couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Why the wounded look?”

McNamara clenched her jaw.

“It’s… it’s your birthday,” she murmured, her voice skittish. “Or, almost your birthday.” She stared at her plate again. “Can’t you just… have a bit?” There was a vague, murky glint of hope in her hazel eyes. “This is your favourite restaurant, after all.”

Duke swallowed, then slowly turned towards her meal again.

Pain stabbed her insides.

_Would one bite hurt?_

She ran a hand over her stomach.

“No.”

She vaguely registered McNamara grimacing, but Duke paid no attention to her. Instead she continued to stare at the plate, watching the steam float off into the air and drift around her as if it were trying to soothe her. She could almost _hear_ it.

_Just one bite._

She bit her lip.

_It won’t hurt._

Her teeth clamped down harder.

_Just a little bit._

She tried her best. Tried her very fucking best.

And she failed. She fucking failed.

Flavour - _actual_ flavour of something warm, salty and _rich_ was invading her mouth. Her teeth were grinding it up, her mouth was watering and her stomach was _screaming_ at her to swallow it. She wondered if spitting it out last minute would be the better option, but she couldn’t bring herself to let the food go.

Then it was gone. She swallowed it, and she felt a blend of fulfillment and emptiness hit her gut.

She heard McNamara say something from next to her - probably a question or something - but none of the words went in. Her brain was too busy screeching, over and over again,

_You failed._

_You couldn’t hold on for any longer?_

_You’re pathetic._

“Fuck it,” she mumbled out loud, directed at no one but herself. She’d already fucked this up. She was already a fuck up.

What did she have to lose?

So she took another bite. She hardly chewed it, she simply wanted it to stop the claws scratching at her stomach.

Then another. She actually chewed that one. It tasted so much better than the flavourless ice she’d been chewing on.

Then she ate another. And another. And another.

“Heather?”

She glanced at McNamara mid-chew, almost forgetting that she was there.

Her eyes were wide with concern, and somehow her bangs being brushed out of her face just made her stare all the more intense. Like she was burning into her skin.

She forgot to reply with words, and only stared back at her, hardly chewing her food before swallowing it. Still, McNamara continued to speak.

“Maybe don’t eat so fast?” She gently placed a hand on the wrist that held her fork. “I don’t want you to-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she snapped, before taking in another mouthful.

 _Stop_.

It was as if the pain inside her was extinguished with every bit she swallowed.

_Stop it._

And with half the plate empty, she felt as if she didn’t have _enough_.

_You’ve lost it._

Water wasn’t enough.

_You’ve lost it._

It didn’t stop the pain. It never did. It always came back.

_You’ve lost it._

If only she could _eat_ -

_You lost control._

She froze, then stared down at her plate.

Empty. It was empty.

And she was full.

She somehow found the courage to look up. McNamara was still sitting close to her, staring at her with wide, worried eyes. She let her eyes creep over to Veronica, who was glancing back and forth between her and McNamara.

Then she glanced at Chandler. She wasn’t looking up. She wasn’t looking at her, and at first, she assumed that she hadn’t even noticed.

Though, with how still she was, other than the finger tapping on the table, she knew she had. This was just her way of hiding any sort of involvement in something she didn’t _care_ about or was _embarrassed_ about. Or something. That’s what she’d always assumed, and she’d yet to be proven wrong.

 _I don’t blame her,_ she thought, looking back at the plate. _This_ is _an embarrassment_.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” she grumbled as she stood up, shuffling out of her seat. She vaguely recalled McNamara reaching out towards her, but she failed to grab her, so she paid no heed.

_I’m an embarrassment._

A hand crawled over her stomach as she made her way to the bathroom.

_Why do I even bother?_

She walked over to the furthest stall from the door - the darkest one with no light above it.

_I can’t contain myself._

No one in the room. She was free to slip the finger into her mouth, her knuckles scraping her teeth when doing so. She could feel pain on the scabs that were already there, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care anymore.

_I can’t control myself._

She felt herself gag, her body convulse, her stomach churn.

_I can’t control anything._

Contents began to crawl its way back up, burning her stomach, her throat her _mouth_ -

_What’s the fucking point? This is where I always end up._

She hunched over the toilet and opened her mouth, letting all the half-digested slush out and splatter into the water below.

_What’s the fucking point?_

 

* * *

 

“ _There_ you are!” Duke exclaimed as she entered the bathroom, seeing Chandler standing in front of a mirror. “What gives? You never come here in the mornings.”

“Oh, I got a little caught up,” Chandler replied, not even sparing her a glance. In getting a closer look, Duke could see that she was flicking a mascara wand over her long lashes, accompanying the bright pink lipstick and the magenta bows in her hair.

“You look nice,” Duke commented, coming up to stand next to her.

“Thanks,” Chandler said, still staring at the mirror. Duke got a closer look, and saw she also had winged eyeliner, black strokes spreading out beside the corners of her eyes. “Been trying out new looks recently.”

Duke then looked down to her outfit. These days she didn’t wear such soft colours like she used to - right now she wore a magenta top, a black skirt and the red cardigan that Duke had recommended for her - one that matched one of her own.

She pulled the outfit off… really well. If Duke had ever been right about anything in her life, it would be her decision to suggest that red looked _great_ on Chandler.

“Oh hey, is that a new top?” Chandler suddenly asked, pointing to Duke’s merlot-coloured top that hid under her red blazer.

“Sort of. I’ve had it for a little while, but I don’t wear it too often.”

“I think you should!” Chandler chipped, finally dropping her wand from her eye and looking at her with a smile. That smile was enough to warm Duke’s heart. “It would look great with a black skirt, too.”

Duke looked down at her jeans and considered her suggestion.

“Maybe.” Black hair suddenly blew in her face while she faced the floor. She gave an annoyed grunt, before blowing it out.

“You want a clip?”

Duke looked up again.

“Sure, I guess.”

Chandler then reached into her bag, eventually pulling out a clip with a green bow on it.

“Actually, do you want this?” she then said, handing over to bow. “I’ve never worn it, and I probably never will.”

Duke took hold of the clip, then looked in another mirror to attach it to her hair.

“I don’t see why. It’s really nice!”

“I’m just not a fan of green,” Chandler replied, giving a shrug. Duke gasped.

“Green’s a _great_ colour.”

Chandler arched a brow. “I thought red was your favourite colour.”

“Well, yeah, but green’s still pretty high on the list.” She glanced at the clip from different angles and smiled. “But thanks. I’ll keep it.”

“Neat.” Chandler then went back to finishing up her mascara, while Duke simply watched. Her movements were quite slow, almost as if she were nervous to make the next stroke - Duke assumed she was low on makeup wipes to use if she messed up.

Her thoughts were then interrupted by the bathroom door opening. Two girls walked in, talking amongst themselves. Duke was about to turn her attention back to Chandler, but she was stopped by one of them saying,

“Oh, Heather, you look really nice!”

It was an instinctive reaction to turn her head at the sound of her name, but it only took one glimpse to see that the comment wasn’t directed at her, if how they were looking over to Chandler was any implication.

Chandler spared them a glance.

“Thanks.”

She immediately went back to making the last few finishing touches, all the while the two girls went into their respective stalls to do their business.

Chandler was busy packing everything in her bag when they returned from the stalls after the sound of toilets flushing.

“‘Scuse me,” one of them said, nodding the the sink that Duke was leaning on. Duke moved off of it, deciding not to bother commenting on the fact that there was another free sink right next to them.

She instead leaned against the wall between the girl and Chandler, still gazing over to her friend who was currently re-doing the position of one of her bows. She briefly had one side of loose ginger hair, and Duke couldn’t help but realise that she missed how wild it had been when she first met her. By no means was it _bad_ when tied up, but seeing her locks loose was a soft spot she couldn’t help but have.

She told herself to shut up by reminding herself that her hair was longer, and _not_ tying it up would be irritating as all hell. She would know - her straight black hair was enough to blind her on a windy day, if the green clip currently in her hair was to tell of anything.

“Hey, where’d you get that lipstick from, anyway?”

Duke turned to the girl currently standing over the sink next to her, seeing that she was looking over to Chandler.

Chandler slowly turned to her, a strange, stoic expression plastered on her face.

“It’s an expensive brand. I doubt you could afford it.”

Duke widened her eyes a little at the harshness of her tone, and could see the girl’s expression become disheartned, but then,

“Then how did _you_ afford it?”

“My parents are business people. Connect the dots.”

The girl, as well as her friend, both looked astonished at that fact. What, did they not realise that Chandler basically lived in a fucking mansion?

“Woah… you must be loaded,” one of them said. Chandler gave a smile that Duke could only describe as smug.

“Of course I am. We all are.” She glimpsed at Duke for a brief moment. When the girls’ eyes followed her gaze and landed on her, Duke sheepishly smiled.

“I, um… I guess.”

“So could you like… buy the whole school something nice?” the brunette asked.

“Each!” the blonde added.

Chandler arched a brow, before stalking over to Duke.

“I _could_ , but…” She glanced at Duke. “I would only ever do that for my friends.” The corner of her mouth quirked up.

The girls’ looked down at Duke with an envious gaze, and she shifted uncomfortably.

“You’re lucky,” the blonde grunted.

“Yeah, Heather number one could make you look _beautiful_.”

Duke felt those words stab her in the chest.

 _Am I not beautiful?_ She couldn’t hold back a scowl from appearing on her face.

“Heather number one?” Chandler echoed curiously.

The brunette nodded. “Yeah. We need _some_ way to tell you three apart.” She then pointed to Duke. “We decided she’s Heather number two.”

Something pierced her already open stab wound from before.

 _That’s what I am?_ She tried to hide her frown when she looked over to Chandler, in all her glory. _Of course it is. I’m nowhere near as beautiful as her._ She looked back at the girls. _Turns out I’m not alone in thinking that._

Turns out the school agreed with her.

“Her name’s Heather Duke,” Chandler corrected them, her tone confident and unshaken. Duke felt the usual admiration well up in her chest when she spoke, but couldn’t help but feel another feeling in her gut. Something less pleasant.

_Why can’t I be like that?_

“We can never remember!” the brunette protested. “It’s easier.”

Chandler gave a scoff, rolling her eyes.

“Learn, then. It’s not hard.”

The girls both frowned at her.

“We don’t know the difference between this one and the other one!” the blonde said. “Or- we _do_ , but we’ll _never_ remember their names!”

“Tough?” Chandler gave an apathetic shrug. Duke just stared at the ground with her arms tightly crossed.

 _So they can remember_ her _name and not mine?_ Her feet shifted a little. _Am I really that invisible?_

She could feel that feeling in her gut grow a little more intense. Not much, but enough to be noticeable.

Then the sound of the bell ringing interrupted their conversation. She whipped her head back up to Chandler, who was still glaring at the two girls.

“Both of you run along, now.” She gestured for them to leave, her poise untouched, unbreakable.

The two girls nodded, before turning around to leave them alone. Chandler turned around to grab her bag from the floor, then looked back at Duke.

“You okay?”

Duke shook herself out of her thoughts to nod at her reassuringly.

“Duh. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh. You just seemed…” She pursed her lips, before shrugging. “Nothing. Never mind.”

She then began to walk towards the bathroom door to make her leave, only stopping when she realised that Duke wasn’t behind or next to her. She turned around and arched a brow.

“Coming?”

Duke opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out at first.

“I, um…” She glanced over to the stalls at random. “I need a piss. I’ll just see you at lunch.”

“Oh, alright.” Chandler shrugged, about to begin walking away again, but she stopped herself. “Also, Mac and I are hanging out this Friday. Apparently she wants to curl her hair.” She gave an amused huff. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come since you’d just be watching me do her hair, but you can if you want.”

Duke debated what her reply should be for a moment. She knew if she said yes, she’d get to spend more time with Heather and Heather. That was always fun.

On the other hand, Heather was right. She’d be watching from the sidelines, uninvolved with what was happening. She’d probably end up getting lost in a book or something while they laugh away about… whatever.

“I… no, it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

She could see Chandler frown, but she said nothing more. She simply gave a shrug, before leaving her alone in the bathroom.

Duke was still for a moment. She was unsure what to do, now that she’d given up the option to follow Chandler out.

She didn’t _actually_ need the bathroom. It had been that strange churning feeling in her gut that had pinned her feet in place. Not her.

She eventually decided to turn back into the mirror.

So, McNamara was curling her hair, huh?

She leaned over the sink ever so slightly to get a closer look at herself.

Lucky McNamara. She’d probably look so pretty with brown curls. Maybe even as good as Chandler did with her natural ginger swirls.

She lifted some of her black strands, wondering if she would look anywhere near as good. Maybe her twisting the tresses around her finger might give her a good image of what she _could_ look like.

Nope.

She let out a frustrated sigh, unravelling the hair from her finger, and growing irritated in how they curled up ever so slightly at the ends when released.

Fuck. It was no wonder how people knew Heather, but they didn’t know _her_.

She stood up straight and let out a groan.

Hell, could people even _see_ her when she was swimming through the crowds? She was only up to Heather’s shoulder in height, after all. Maybe no one knew what she looked like at all.

She took a step back from the mirror.

But maybe that was a saving grace. She wasn’t exactly the prettiest girl around. She was thinner on the chest than most girls were these days, and yet she wasn’t _thin_ either. She could tell whenever she stood in between Chandler and McNamara.

She’d told herself that she was being ridiculous. It was all in her head. Comparing herself to her two best friends was silly.

But she wasn’t being ridiculous. Others could see it. The _school_ saw it.

She could see it.

And she had to wonder, could Chandler see it, too?

 

* * *

 

The table now had an empty space. McNamara watched as Duke darted off, speed-walking to wherever the bathroom was. Suddenly the space next to her felt cold, sending a chill up her spine.

She shot one glance at Veronica and Chandler, and got two reactions. Veronica was staring after Duke, while Chandler was staring at her own plate, batting at her half-eaten meal with a fork without a second thought.

Then she looked back at the empty space.

“This was sort of inevitable,” she then heard Chandler mutter. McNamara looked back and saw her pick up her gaze to lock eyes with her. She could only frown back.

“No it wasn’t,” she argued, her voice quiet. Chandler arched a brow at her. “She could’ve just…” Her hands hooked around the hem of her dress, fingers curling up until her hands were clenched fists. “Eaten _something_ .” She winced at the empty plate. “Well… I mean, something that would stay _down_.”

Veronica shot her a pitiful look, and it took all McNamara’s strength to not fall into a warm embrace she knew she could gain from her. Instead, she got a hand on the shoulder.

“It wasn’t going to happen, Heather-”

“It _needs_ to happen!” she suddenly snapped, not caring about her raised voice. She then shuffled along the seat and stood up, not even casting the other two girls a second glance as she marched off in the direction that Duke had gone. Her pace was quick and frantic as her gaze darted around the restaurant, searching for a door with a sign that would imply a bathroom. It took some time, but she eventually spotted such a door that matched that description, and she cantered over to it. She slammed into the door and shoved it out of her way, and only stopped once she was inside.

There were only four stalls, and there was only one closed one. Except it wasn’t even closed - it was still slightly ajar.

But with how there were gagging sounds coming out of it, she didn’t need to check to know who was in there. She stalked over to it, stopping just outside the door, placing her hand on it. She debated whether or not to just wait outside, but the longer she listened to Heather throwing up, the more she was inclined to say _fuck no_.

She stepped into the door, making sure the door didn’t hit Heather as it swung open, and her heart clenched in seeing her hunched over the toilet. She should’ve been used to the sight by now. It had been months. So many months.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t get used to her throwing up every ounce of food in her system. She couldn’t get used to the sound of her hurling. She _couldn’t._

Her first reaction was to kneel down next to her and begin running her hand up and down her back. If Duke noticed, she didn’t hint at it. She remained hunched over the seat and contents sloshed in the water below.

McNamara then noticed some stray black hairs threatening to flop into the toilet and get covered in vomit, and was quick to grab them and tuck them over her shoulders, holding them away from her face. This time she did react, and lifted her head ever so slightly to look at her. McNamara could only guess that she hadn’t actually noticed her presence until now, with how her eyes seemed to widen a little. It didn’t last long, though, since she hurled again and let her head hang as more vomit poured from her mouth.

McNamara could feel something well up in her throat, but she scolded at herself to swallow it. Instead, she shuffled closer to her, doing her very best to ignore the foul scent drifting out of the toilet which could’ve made her gag too, and decided to simply put up with it in favour holding Heather, waiting for it to _stop_. She slumped on the floor next to her, keeping her arms wrapped around her firmly, her head resting on her shoulder. She just shut her eyes and waited for the sounds to stop, waiting for silence.

She wasn’t sure how long it was until she finally relented. She cautiously blinked open an eye when she felt her shift under her hold, and lifted her head when she leaned back. McNamara pretty much caught her from falling backwards, holding her up in a sitting position. She finally let go of her hair, which was thankfully clean, from what she could see.

Duke herself, however, had a dulled, dazed green gaze, staring blankly at nothing. McNamara furrowed her brow.

“Heather?”

Duke slowly turned to look at her, raspy breaths escaping from her slightly parted lips. She didn’t respond, only looked at her. McNamara frowned.

“Are you alright?”

Duke blinked at her, eyes still foggy. Then a hand climbed its way up to run through her black curls.

“Fuck…” she hissed, her voice too quiet to sound like her actual voice. McNamara leaned forward a little.

“Heather?”

Duke looked like she was wincing in pain, and her fingers gripped her hair tightly as her eyes squeezed shut.

Then she flopped onto McNamara, head landing on her chest. McNamara flinched in surprise, looking down at her to ask her what she was doing, only to see that her eyes were still shut and shallow breaths escaped her. She gulped at the sight, holding onto her protectively, as if that would do anything.

“Heather?” she said again, this time in a softer voice. She leaned down, closer to her ear. “Hey… Lee?”

She got no response. A pit of dread began to form in her own stomach.

“Heather? Heather, please wake up.”

She heard a faint groan escape the girl. So, she was still somewhat conscious. That was… better. Not good. Just better.

Still, McNamara grimaced as she adjusted her hold on her, flipping her around so that she would be leaning on her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around her torso in a tight grip, while she rested her chin against her head.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Lee, I just…” She gulped. “I just wanted you to eat _something_.” She chewed on her lower lip as she tightened her grip on her, pressing her up against her desperately. “I’m worried about you, Lee. Veronica’s worried about you as well. And Heather…” She hesitated. “She’s probably worried too.” She wasn’t really sure where she got that idea from, she could only hope there was truth in it.

“I don’t know how to help you,” McNamara whimpered. “I don’t know what to do other than _watch_.” She buried her nose into her black locks, which were as soft as ever, and held a scent that reminded her of a calm ocean. “I miss you. I miss you before all of... this.” She sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re doing it, Lee. I wish you could tell me. Or someone. Anyone.” She noticed something well up in her eye, and she was quick to squeeze it out.

“Please, Heather,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the black locks. She noticed her voice cracking, but she didn’t care. She couldn't even hear her.

“I don’t want you to die.”

 

* * *

 

Duke was doing her best to stuff her bag into her locker without all the textbooks already inside tipping out. God, she hated Tuesdays. Third year of middle school had given her an _awful_ time table. Tuesday in particular had a bunch of lessons which required her to bring in the heaviest fucking books she owned.

She finally managed to shove her began inside her locker and slam it shut, then leaned back against it to let out an exasperated sigh.

Just one more year of this shit, and then it’s high school.

She could only _pray_ that it would be any better.

She’d been leaning against her locker for a mere few seconds, when a figure stopping right next to her caught her eye. She looked over and saw three girls, who she could vaguely recognize as girls from her grade, had stopped in their tracks and were looking straight at her. She furrowed her brow, confused.

“Uh… do you need something?”

She grew nervous when she saw them giggle amongst themselves. In the three years she’d been at this school, she’d come to learn that that was _never_ a good sign.

“Yeah, um,” one of them then spoke, turning towards her. She looked as if she were trying to hold back laughter, and Duke couldn’t help but shuffle further away from her as best as she could without it being noticeable. “Just, some other girls were talking and…” she stopped to snicker. “We were just wondering if it was true?”

She gave them a confused look. “If what’s true?”

They giggled again. Duke swallowed.

“Do you stuff your bra?” another one of them blurted out, before descending into fits of laughter. Duke just froze in place, eyes wide by the statement.

“Wh-what?”

“Simple question,” one girl told her, still sniggering. “Do you?”

Duke swallowed, trying to think of what to say. Trying to think of what the best thing to say was. Trying to think of what _wouldn’t get her fucking murdered_.

“I-I…” Her mouth was open, but no coherent words would come out.

“Holy shit, she _does_!”

Duke found her words trapped in her throat. She could only listen to them laugh away, all the while she felt passing eyes burning into her as they went by.

If she could just fall through the floor into nothingness right now, that would be great.

Because no matter what she could say, she knew they were _right_. She just didn’t realise it was noticeable in any way. Not until now.

She tried to think of something. _Anything_ . Anything that could get her out of this situation. Anything that could give her some sort of _control over this-_

They stopped laughing. All three of them seemed to freeze.

“Shit, it’s Heather.”

_Heather?_

“Which one?” one of them whispered.

“Number one! Chandler!”

_Oh. Heather._

Suddenly, red fabric was next to her. Duke whipped her head around to see Chandler, red blazer, magenta shirt and black skirt, radiating a sense of power. Just enough to silence these three bitches.

“What’s going on?” she began, her voice lower than usual. She was eyeing the three of them, blue eyes looking as cold as ice.

The three of them hesitated to answer, and Chandler crossed her arms.

“You looked just fine speaking to Heather just then,” she growled. “What’s got your tongue?”

The three of them shot nervous glances at each other, which didn’t seem to sit right with Chandler, since she took a step forward. Only then did Duke realise that McNamara had been standing on the other side of her, out of her view. She paid her no attention, though. She could only focus on Chandler staring down the three girls.

“Did you just _forget_ how to speak?”

“No!” one of them blurted out. Chandler cocked her head to the side.

“Then what were you just saying to my friend?” She arched a brow. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing!”

Chandler gave a snort of disbelief. “Clearly it was something.” She took another step forward, and the girls stumbled back. “What were you saying?”

Then one of them raised their gaze up to her level.

“Why are _you_ protecting her?” She smirked. “What, is she your _girlfriend_?”

The other girls snickered at that, while Duke just widened her eyes.

Chandler was silent for a moment. Then,

_Slam!_

Duke flinched in watching Chandler shove that girl against the lockers, causing a sound so loud that it might’ve shook the whole hallway. She vaguely registered heads turning in their direction, though she did her best to ignore them. She didn’t want to be involved in this, but she had no other choice. She was the _cause_ of this.

“Wanna repeat that?” Chandler hissed. The girl’s eyes were wide with terror, and she vigorously shook her head. Chandler leered at her. “Good.” She released her from her grip. “Now scram, skank.”

The girl scampered back over to her group, head hanging low in humiliation, before they all fled. Only then could Duke look around her, and see a loosely formed crowd had gathered around them. Chandler turned to them, raking her gaze over them all, before saying,

“What are you all looking at?”

That was enough to get them to flee. It was as if Chandler had the power to flick a switch that could change the actions of everyone within a certain radius around her.

Duke had to wonder what that was like.

“Are you okay?”

Duke whipped her head back to Chandler, and she slowly nodded.

“What happened? Why were they laughing?” McNamara asked, coming up to link arms with Chandler.

Duke bit her lip.

“Hey, I need to know,” Chandler said after a while of silence. “I wanna make sure they don’t do it again.”

 _I don’t need you to do it for me,_ was her first thought when she said that, but when she thought about it for a while longer, she wondered if that was true.

She had needed Chandler to defend her.

She hadn’t been able to protect herself.

She had no control over anyone in this school. Not like Chandler did.

“They asked me if I stuffed my bra,” she muttered, almost inaudibly. Regardless, the two of them heard her, and they widened their eyes.

“Why would they say that?” Chandler asked, stepping closer to her. Her eyes were filled with concern.

 _Why do you need to know?_ she almost said, but bit it back.

It seems her accidental silence was enough to let Chandler figure it out. Fuck.

“Do you?”

Duke scrunched up her nose and snapped her gaze up to her.

“Why would _you_ need to know?” she spat, causing her to step backward in surprise. Duke ignored it. “It’s none of your business! It’s no one’s business!” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Heather-”

“ _What?_ ”

Chandler flinched at her raise of volume, but she seemed to stay poised.

“I only wanted to know because…” She bit her lip. “Why do you do it?”

Duke huffed. “I _said_ , it’s none of your business!” She whipped her head away from her, while her arms pressed against her chest. “No one was supposed to know.”

She couldn’t see Heather or Heather’s expressions, and she couldn’t hear them for a while either.

“I’m only trying to help,” Chandler said. Duke gritted her teeth.

“You always do,” she muttered, leaning against the lockers. “You’re always _there_ , you’re all Heather and I _need_ !” Each word grew more like a hiss as she went on. “I don’t _need_ you to protect me!” _Yes I do._ “I’m fine on my own! I have everything under control!” _No I don’t._

There was another drawn out silence between the three of them. Then,

“Fine.”

Duke finally looked back up at Chandler, but she was too late to catch her eye. She’d already turned around, as had McNamara, and was taking their leave down the hallway. Duke stared after them, regret beginning to build up in her gut.

She’d only spoken one word to her, but she’d heard it. She heard the hurt in her voice. It was common for Chandler to be _hurt_ by anything. Not these days.

But she’d done it. _She’d_ hurt Heather Chandler.

She frowned. That’s not what she wanted.

She wasn’t sure _what_ she wanted, but it wasn’t that.

Her back rested against the lockers, and she stared at the floor, paying no heed to the numerous footsteps crossing over her vision. She didn’t care.

 _I thought she was perfect._ She looked up at the students around her. _Maybe to everyone else, she is._

It may have taken her some time, but Heather Chandler had managed to climb above it all. With each day that passed, she grew to be more feared by the student body. Anyone who _tried_ to defy her would be met with insults, or even a slap to the face with everyone watching. Or, of course, being pinned to the lockers.

Duke wondered what it was like. She wondered what it was like to have so much _control_ over everyone who wronged her. It was a lot to ask - a _lot_ of people had wronged her over the past three years.

How did Heather Chandler manage it? Why is it that it was merely a chore at best for her?

_How is she so goddamn perfect to everyone?_

 

* * *

 

Veronica stared off to where McNamara had disappeared, to what she could assume was a search for the bathroom. She would occasionally tap her fingers against the table, counting the seconds that went by.

“So…”

Chandler’s voice made her snap her head back towards her.

“What?” she asked. Chandler’s lips were parted, as if she were going to say something, but after some glancing around, she closed them again. Veronica furrowed her brow.

“Heather?”

“Yeah?”

Veronica bit her lip as she stared at Duke’s empty seat.

“Do _you_ know how long this has been going on?”

Chandler shot her an odd look.

“Has what been going on?”

Veronica arched a brow. “ _This_.” She gestured to the empty spaces next to her. Chandler glanced in that direction, before shrugging.

“Mac and I found out in the summer,” she began. “We were-”

“I know.”

Chandler blinked at her. “Huh?”

“Mara told me already.” She looked away, staring at McNamara’s seat.

“When?”

“Just before we left.” She peered at her. “She told me what you said.”

Chandler gave a puzzled look. “That being…?”

Veronica whipped her head back around to her.

“You called it a trend,” she spat, a little harsher than intended. She refused to take it back, though.

Chandler fluttered her lashes at her, looking clueless.

Then she replied with a, “Oh. Yeah, I did.”

Veronica gaped at her. “ _Oh?_ ” she echoed. “Is _that_ all you have to say?”

Chandler stared at her. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

Veronica gave a growl of frustration, before shuffling along the seat and standing up to.

“ _You’re_ going too?” Chandler said. Veronica turned around to glare at her.

“Yes. It’s been ten fucking minutes.”

She held her gaze for a moment, and for a split second only, her blue eyes looked doubtful. It was quick to disappear, however.

“She’ll be fine, ‘Ronica.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You and Mac should know that this is normal.”

Veronica had to swallow down the urge to scream at her in the middle of the restaurant.

“Well, it _shouldn’t_ be normal,” she snarled at her. Chandler looked taken aback by her angered tone.

“I’ll give you that, but-”

“Watch our shit. I’ll be back.”

She didn’t even give her a second glance before spinning around and marching off in the direction that McNamara had went ten minutes earlier. She raked her gaze around the restaurant, up until she found a door with the right label. She quickened her pace when walking over to it, and barged her way into the bathroom.

The room was empty at first glance. All the stalls were ajar, the far end a little more closed than the other. She glanced around cautiously, before calling,

“Heather? Mara? Are you in here?”

“We’re in here.”

Mara’s voice came from the furthest stall, and she was quick to slip inside. When she was in, she widened her eyes in seeing Mara on the floor with Duke in her arms. Duke’s eyes were closed and her body looked limp, the only movements coming from her chest rising and falling to match her shallow breaths.

“Oh, God.” Veronica grimaced at the sight, while Mara winced.

“Do me a favour, flush the toilet,” she rasped. “I’d do it myself, but…” Her grip on Duke tightened. Veronica nodded, stepped over them both, averting her eyes from the vomit floating in the water. The closer she got as she leaned over to flush it, the more the urge to hold her breath grew. She gave a relieved sigh when she watched the water flush the vomit down, then turned back to Heather and Heather.

“How long has she been like this?”

Mara just shrugged.

“A while."

Veronica fell back against the wall and slipped down until she was sitting next to Mara.

“You’ve been gone for ten minutes.”

Mara didn’t look at her. Her eyes were glued to Duke, and her hands were making subtle, invisible patterns on her arms and shoulders.

“I don’t know if she passed out or…” Her head hung. “Maybe she’s just asleep.”

Veronica furrowed her brow and gave a sad huff.

“She’s passed out either way,” she told her, before leaning a little closer to Duke. “Heather?” She tapped her on the shoulder. “Nope, she’s out.”

McNamara grimaced.

“I’m tired of this,” she muttered, resting her chin on Duke’s head. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Veronica shot her a sad look. “I don’t think any of us do.”

Mara’s nose scrunched up.

“Why can’t she stop?” She peered up at Veronica. “Why can’t she just…”

“I don’t think this is something she can stop, Mara.” She gazed down at her dismally. “Not by herself.”

“I know,” she murmured, arms wrapping around her chest and head falling onto her shoulder. “I just want her to do something. Go to a doctor. Something.” Her voice was hoarse and muffled. “I miss her.”

Veronica weakly nudged her with her elbow. “She’s not dead, Mara.”

“ _Yet!_ ” she barked. She whipped her head up to glare at Veronica. “She can’t keep living like this!”

Veronica frowned, but found herself nodding in agreement.

“I know.”

Mara’s shoulder’s then drooped.

“What do we do, Ronnie?” She looked down at Heather again. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“She will. Eventually.”

“When’s _eventually_?” Her lids drooped. “Half an hour? An hour?”

Veronica pursed her lips, then shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

McNamara sniffed. “I can’t just _carry_ her out.” Her head fell back on Duke’s. “Well, I _can_ , I’ve done it before.”

Veronica widened her eyes a little. “She let you do that?”

“On accident. We were drunk and in my house, to be fair.”

Veronica could take a good guess on what night this was, but she didn’t bother. That wasn’t a concern right now.

“I can’t carry her through the restaurant. We’re stuck here.”

Veronica clicked her tongue as she gazed at Duke for a while longer, trying to think of what to do next.

Because Mara was right. They couldn’t just waltz out of here with an unconscious Heather Duke in Mara’s arms and act like everything was fine. Because everything _wasn’t_ fine. Nothing about this was fine.

Then a dumb, last-restort-esque idea came to her.

“Wait here,” she said, before scuffling back onto her feet. Mara looked up at her in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back, just give me a minute.” She hopped back over Duke and slipped back out the stall, closing it the best as she could on the way out. She scurried back out the bathroom and cantered through the restaurant, back to their table.

Chandler was still there, rocking her fork back and forth on her plate. As she got closer, she looked up and saw Veronica.

“What the hell is going on?” was the first thing she asked as soon as Veronica was in ear-shot. “It’s been like fifteen minutes!”

“I’ll be back,” is all Veronica said, before grabbing Duke’s icy glass of water (though the ice was almost fully melted by now). She turned around to begin her trek back to the bathroom, but a hand grabbed her arm. She whipped her head back to face Chandler.

“No, tell me what’s going on!” she demanded. “You’re all being vague as hell!”

Veronica rolled her eyes.

“I’ll explain later-”

“ _No!_ ” She didn’t release her grip on her. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just come with you.”

“Someone needs to watch the table.”

Heather rolled her eyes, before kneeling down next to her seat and grabbing her handbag from under the table.

“Just take our shit with us.” She grabbed Veronica’s bag in her other hand. Veronica gave a frustrated, yet defeated sigh.

“ _Fine_.” She placed the glass back on the table, then reached for McNamara and Duke’s luggage. Nothing was too heavy, thank God. With Heather readily standing next to her, Veronica grabbed the glass again and began to walk.

“Why are you taking that?” Heather nodded to the glass. Veronica just shook her head.

“I’ll probably need it.” She bit her lip. “And Heather will probably kill me, but that’s fine.”

Heather looked more puzzled than ever, but Veronica didn’t care. Not in this moment. All that mattered right now was waking Duke up.

She lead Chandler back into the bathroom, then went straight over to the stall where Heather and Heather resided.

“Back,” Veronica announced as she pushed the door open. Mara caught the door to made sure it didn’t hit either of them.

Veronica could sense Chandler lingering over her shoulder.

“Fucking hell,” she heard her mutter. Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Mara, you’re gonna have to move,” she told her, edging to water closer to her, while placing the bags on the floor.

“Why?”

Veronica kneeled down. “I’m going to splash her with water.”

Mara widened her eyes. “As in, her face?”

She nodded.

“I’m staying put,” Mara then said, tightening her hold on Duke.

“You’ll get wet,” Chandler said from behind her, leaning back against the stall door. Mara just scoffed.

“I don’t care.”

Veronica hesitantly nodded. “Alright…” She angled the cup just in front of Duke’s face. “It’s gonna be cold, by the way.”

“I won’t notice.”

Veronica nodded again, before lunging the cup forward, with enough force to release some of the liquid out. It splashed on Duke’s face, hitting her eyes first, and almost immediately they shot open. She let out a sharp gasp as the water ran down her cheeks and neck, some of it carrying her winged eyeliner with it, creating black trails down her skin.

“What the fuck?” she breathed, gaze darting around the stall. “What-”

“You passed out,” Veronica told her. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure what else to do.” She coiled back the glass, and Duke just stared at it, as if trying to process what was going on.

“So you _splashed water on me_?”

“What else was she meant to do?” Chandler grunted. Veronica whipped her head up to face her.

“Shut up, Heather.”

Chandler stared at her. “Excuse me?”

Veronica then stood up. “Just… zip it.” She made a zipping gesture with her free hand. “For a second.”

Chandler frowned at her, but she said no more. Veronica admitted she had expected her to argue, but she was glad she didn’t. Instead, she turned back to Duke, who seemed to have just realised she was being held by McNamara. Veronica was expecting her to scold her, but she didn’t. She just scrambled out her hold and got back on her two feet, leaning against the wall as she did so.

“Ugh…” she groaned, hand pressed against her head. Mara gave a concerned look.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she grunted. “Just a headache.”

Veronica instinctively held out the left over water in front of her, her brain trying to connect the dots.

 _Dehydration,_ she thought, waiting for Duke to take the glass. She didn’t at first, instead just stared at it, but she eventually took it and chugged down the rest of the water. Phew.

The three of them watched as she gulped half a glass of water down in one go, until she finished with a gasp.

“Well, this was eventful.”

Veronica turned to glare at Chandler again, repeating the ‘zipping mouth’ gesture. Chandler scowled at her, but she remained silent.

“What now, Heather?” Veronica then said, turning back to Duke, who wasn’t even looking at her at first. Then it seemed to register in her brain what she had said, and she turned to her.

“Were you talking to me?”

Veronica nodded.

“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Dunno.” She then glanced down at her swatch. “How long was I out?”

“Like, twenty minutes, almost.”

Duke bit her lip, then sighed.

“Home, I guess.” She pushed herself away from the wall and shoved the glass back in Veronica’s hand. She then latched onto McNamara’s arm, in a similar fashion that Mara did to her, Veronica and Chandler.

“Already?” Chandler questioned. Duke didn’t bother looking at her.

“If she wants to go, then we’re going,” Veronica said sternly, staring at Chandler. “She just threw up. I think it would be a good idea.”

She then heard Duke give a scoff.

“Since when did you care about that?”

Veronica blinked at her. “Me?”

Duke stared at her. “Yes, you.” Her eyes darkened. “Don’t act like you’re a saint, Veronica. You’re not.”

Veronica just stared at her, confused.

“I don’t know what you-”

“Don’t think I forgot what you said at the party,” she spat, wrapping her arm around McNamara’s. Veronica’s brows knitted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“ _Ugh!_ ” Duke groaned. “Your _first_ party. Ring any bells?”

Veronica hardly had a chance to think about what she said before she began making her way to the stall door, gesturing for Chandler to move out the way. Chandler rolled her eyes, though she opened the door anyway, stepping outside so that Duke could do the same. She still held onto McNamara as she stalked out.

“Hey, uh, Heather.”

Duke whipped her head back to Veronica, seeing her holding out her and McNamara’s bag out in front of her. She grunted as she took it from her, while Mara gave her a thankful smile. Veronica weakly smiled back, before following them out of the bathroom, with Chandler walking by her side.

They walked past their table to return the glass with their plates, Duke looking away from it the entire time. Veronica frowned.

“I should go pay,” Duke muttered, reaching into her bag to search for her purse.

“I can go pay,” Veronica offered, stepping towards her. “You can go back to the car and-”

“No.” Duke didn’t look up at her as she brought out her purse. “Just go to the car. I’ll be there soon enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Duke muttered, before turning to McNamara. “You going back to the car too?”

McNamara shook her head.

“I’ll stay with you.”

Duke gave a curt nod, before turning around to begin making her way to the counter to pay. McNamara stayed attached to her as they left.

And once again, Veronica was left alone with Chandler.

Chandler silently handing her her handbag drew her attention back to her, and she took it from her without a word.

“Back to the car, then,” Chandler muttered, turning around in the opposite direction to Duke to make her way over to the exit. Veronica gave a grunt, before following on next to her.

They both carried a heavy silence on their way back to the car. Their black dresses grew even darker when they stepped outside under the darkened sky. It was at that stage where it was almost black, but not black enough to show stars. Just an empty cape hanging over them.

Veronica took her seat in the back, while Chandler sat in the driver’s seat. Veronica let herself fall back against her seat and let out a big sigh.

“Kind of stupid idea for us to have a meal for her birthday,” she heard Chandler mutter from the front. She picked her head up from the seat and glared at her.

“Could you stop acting so _chill_ about it?” she hissed. Chandler twisted around to face her, deadpanning at her.

“How else am I supposed to react?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Concerned? Worried, even?” She scorned at her. “Kind of like the rest of us.”

Chandler continued to stare back at her blankly, and looked like she was about to respond, but the door beside her and Veronica opened up before she could get a word out. McNamara sat down next to her, while Duke sat in the seat in front of her. The two of them said nothing as they buckled in.

“So, your house first?” Chandler asked, looking at Duke.

“Yeah.”

Chandler gave a grunt, before starting up the car and driving away from the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

The final bell rang, and Duke was free for the rest of the day. Finally.

She hadn’t been able to focus on anything all day. Not since lunch.

 _She probably hates me,_ is all she could think as she shoved her textbooks back into her backpack, looped the straps on her shoulder and quickly made her leave. Her pace was quick down the corridors - it had to be. She couldn’t let herself miss Chandler.

She was quick to leave the school and began to race down the pathway that lead to the parking lot.

She got there, and she paused for a moment, searching for the sight of Chandler.

Her eyes soon enough landed on a bright crimson blazer, accompanied by ginger hair tied in two magenta bows. She gave a sigh of relief, before sauntering over to the wall that she was sitting on. She was facing away from her, so she had to be the one to make the first move.

Duke cleared her throat, and Chandler immediately whipped her head around. She deadpanned at her.

“Oh.”

Duke pursed her lips, suddenly losing all confidence.

“Hey,” she grumbled, stepping closer to the wall.

“What do you want?”

Duke peered at her nervously.

“I came to say sorry,” she confessed, hands fidgeting with each other behind her back. “About before.”

Chandler blinked at her, her expression unreadable. Duke frowned at her, scared that she wasn’t going to accept it.

Maybe she’d messed up their friendship forever. She’d have to start all over in high school, hoping that if someone knocked her over in the hallway, someone would be kind enough to help her up. Maybe she’d meet someone else called Heather, and they’d bond over that? Maybe-

“I just don’t get why you were mad at me,” Chandler suddenly spoke, her voice quiet. “I was only trying to help.”

Duke looked at her regrettably.

“I’m sorry, Heather,” she said, placing her hands on the wall’s surface. “I was just… I was really mad.”

Chandler frowned at her. “I know.” She then shifted along the wall and patted the space next to her, gesturing for Duke to hop on. Duke gave a brief smile, before attempting to jump up.

She failed.

She jumped up again, this time draping her arms over to edge, but she still couldn’t pull herself up. She groaned in frustration.

The third time, a hand grabbed onto her, holding her up. Duke smiled at Chandler, who faintly smiled back as she held Duke up by her sides, not letting go until she was safely sitting on the wall. Duke exhaled when she could finally relax, and it was only then did she realise how high the wall was for her, and only for her.

For Chandler, it was fine. No problem. Just like pretty much everything in her life.

“Thanks,” she grunted, staring down at her feet as they swung back and forth, heels hitting to wall each time. Chandler said nothing in reply. Duke forced herself to look up at her, trying to catch her eye. She somewhat did - she caught a few side glimpses.

“I… it’s not that I’m not grateful for what you did or anything, I just-”

“You didn’t sound like it,” Chandler snapped, folding her arms. “It sounded like you didn’t _want_ my help.”

Duke winced. Mainly because she was right.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Chandler finally turned to look at her with a dulled gaze.

“If you don’t want my help, then I won’t help,” she said. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

Duke frowned, having to think about what she said for a moment.

Did she want her help?

 _No, but I need it,_ she thought. _That’s what sucks._

“No,” she murmured, and when she saw the hurt in Chandler’s eyes, she quickly added, “I-I mean, no, that’s not what I want!” She stared at desperately. “I just…” She bit her lip, wondering what to say.

“Was it because I asked about…” Her words trailed off, replaced by a vague gesture around her chest. Duke cringed, understanding what she meant, and she slowly nodded.

“I guess.”

Chandler gave a look of either sympathy or pity. Duke hoped that it was the former.

“Sorry, then,” she murmured, looking down at her lap. “I was just worried.”

“Don’t be,” she grumbled. “It’s nothing, really.”

Chandler looked doubtful. “If something’s bothering you, then-”

“Nothing’s bothering me!” she barked. Chandler fluttered her lashes at her.

“Then why-” she suddenly cut herself off and turned away. “Never mind.”

“Why _what_?”

“You _just_ said that you didn’t want my help!” she exclaimed, whipping her head back around to glare at her. “Make up your mind, Heather!”

Duke sucked in the urge to yell back, instead opting to exhale slowly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she stated dryly. Chandler held her gaze for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“...Alright.”

Duke sighed with relief.

“But… um… thanks for coming for me,” she added quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to get them to leave me alone by myself.”

Chandler’s brows knitted.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s nothing, really.”

_Duh. Everything is nothing to you._

“And I was only asking because I was worried,” she then said, catching Duke off guard. She leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “I get worried about everything these days…” Her voice was soft. Much softer than usual. It was strange. “I know middle school is almost over, but…” She lifted her head, staring off into the distance. “But that’s even worse!” She stared back at Duke, the vulnerability clear in her eyes. “You really think anyone’s gonna be threatened by me when I’m a _freshman_ ?” Her mouth twitched. “How will I fend anyone off? How am I gonna stop people from picking on Mac? What about _you_ ?” Her expression scrunched up as she continued to lament. “If middle school was hell on earth, what the ever-living _fuck_ is high school gonna be like?”

Duke was a little stunned, especially when she heard her voice break. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard that before.

“I… I don’t know,” she replied. “But hey, maybe the dyke rumours will stop?”

Chandler looked unconvinced. “That, or they’ll get worse.”

Duke frowned.

“I don’t even know how they started,” she said. “Where did they even come from?”

Chandler shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.” She gazed over to the cars driving around the parking lot. “What matters is that I keep them on the low.” A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “It’s been working so far.”

“Yeah, people are terrified of you.”

Chandler snorted. “ _Terrified_ is a strong word.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe just _weary_.”

Duke scoffed. “Nah. I can almost _feel_ the terror in their eyes.”

Chandler let out an amused huff.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” she mused, her smile slowly falling. “People will know to stay clear of us.”

“Of _you_ ,” she corrected. “Not of me. Or Emmy.”

Chandler stared at her.

“I _know_ that. That’s why I’m always jumping in to help you.”

Duke paused for a moment.

She kind of dug herself a hole here.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh_.” She bit her lip. “I get scared, okay? That’s it. I get scared.” This all sounded like a confession to Duke. Maybe because it was. “Maybe it’s because of Mac- no, no, badly worded.” She shook her head. “Because of how people treat Mac, I mean.”

Duke slowly nodded, gaining a sense of understanding.

If there was anyone who gained the worst in middle school out of the three of them, it was McNamara.

“And they don’t exactly act all that nice to you, either.” She frowned. “I dunno. I just don’t want to see either of you hurt.” She scowled. “You can’t expect me to sit back and do nothing, Heather.” She looked at her pleadingly. “I want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“I can look after myself.”

“No you can’t!”

Duke went silent, while Chandler’s expression morphed into one of regret.

“I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Duke cut in, giving a shrug. “No, you’re right.” She stared down at the ground. “You saw what happened today. And every other fucking day. I can’t.” Her vision grew cloudy. “I wish I could. I wish I could be like you, and be able to scare everyone off, but I _can’t_.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Chandler shift along the wall, closer to her.

“Sure you can.”

Duke frowned.

_I can’t._

“It’s easy,” Chandler told her.

_No it isn’t!_

“All you have to do is be mean.”

Duke arched a brow at her.

“That’s supposed to be easy?”

Chandler shrugged. “Maybe not for Mac. She’s a sweetie.” She faintly smiled. Duke gave an indignant squawk.

“So you think _I_ can be a bitch like you?”

“What I _meant_ was- hey, wait, did you just call me a bitch?”

They both stared at each other for a moment, before letting out waves of giggles.

“I don’t think your a bitch,” Duke then clarified, still chuckling. “You can just act like one. In a good way.”

Chandler gave a haughty huff. “I’m only a bitch to people who deserve it.”

Duke raised her brows. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Because a lot of people are assholes.”

Duke chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know.” Chandler gave a smug grin. “People must think I’m a mega bitch.”

Duke smiled at her. “I don’t think you are.” She nudged her with her elbow. “You just know how to be one.”

Chandler smiled back at her. “I have to,” she said. “What else am I meant to do?”

Duke shrugged.

“Exactly.” She pursed her lips. “So, um… do you still want me to help you out, then?” She glimpsed at her hopefully. “With chasing off assholes, I mean.”

Duke opened her mouth to reply, but she stopped words from coming out in favour of thinking about it for a second.

Because she wanted her answer to be _no_. She didn’t want to be known as Heather number two. She didn’t want to be forced to run to Heather whenever someone insulted her. She didn’t want to depend on Heather for even the tiniest things, all because she was powerless by herself.

But the fact was, she _was_ powerless. She had no control over how students treated her. How anyone treated her, for that matter.

But Heather did. And that’s what she hated. It felt  _pathetic._

“...Yeah,” she eventually said, somewhat forcing the word out. Heather looked as if she was about to reply, but the sound of a horn blaring cut her off. She whipped her head back over to the parking lot, and saw her parents’ car.

“Heather, come on!” her mother called, sounding impatient. “If you still want to go clothes shopping then don’t keep us waiting!”

“Uh- sorry, mother!” she replied, before scrambling off the wall. “I gotta go,” she then said, turning to Heather while she picked up her bag from the ground below. “See you tomorrow, okay?”

Duke nodded, then held out her hand towards her, hoping to meet Heather’s knuckle with her own.

Heather only just noticed what she was doing when she was about to turn around to make her way over to the car. She paused, and looked like she was about to reciprocate the handshake, but the car horn blared again.

“ _Heather!_ ”

Heather winced, before spinning around frantically and darting over to the car, leaving Duke’s hand hanging in the air. Disappointed, she let her hand fall back down on her lap and watched her clamber into the vehicle. Almost immediately did the car start up again, and Heather shot her a brief wave before the car drove out of the parking lot and eventually out of sight.

Duke was left alone on the wall, wondering what to do next.

 _Probably not too late to get the bus_ , she wondered, taking a much bigger leap off of the wall than Heather had done. _Maybe I can find Emmy, if she hasn’t left already._

Brushing some dust off of her dark green coat, she began to make her way to the row of buses in front of the school, silently praying that no one would throw any chewing gum at her hair on the ride home.

Because let’s face it - she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, especially now that her hair was curly. That would be a bitch wash out later.

 

* * *

 

The journey back to Duke’s house was oddly quiet. A bit too quiet.

Not that Heather was about to try and start a conversation - not when Veronica was pissed at her for a reason that was unclear to her.

Duke’s street was dimly lit by a few street lights, as well as close to barren. That was a good thing - it meant she could stop right outside her house.

“Here,” she announced, breaking the silence that had been choking the four of them. She looked over to Duke, who had been resting her head against the window the entire journey. Only at the sound of her voice did she finally jerk her head off, then looked outside the window she’d been leaning on.

“Oh,” she grunted, unbuckling herself. Heather leaned against the wheel, tapping it with her finger as she waited for her to climb out.

“Bye,” she heard Mac speak in a hoarse voice from behind her. Duke peaked at her.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Veronica added. Duke gave a curt nod.

“See ya,” she mumbled as she grabbed her handbag, before opening the car door. Chandler just watched without a word. No need to say anything - she wasn’t making any eye contact with her. Clearly she didn’t want her to speak.

The door slammed shut, and Heather remained still as she watched her make her way up to her door, not moving until she was inside.

Once the door shut, she turned back towards the wheel, glancing up in the rear view mirror to try and catch sight of Mac.

“Mac, your house next,” she said.

“Okay,” she heard her murmur, only just due to being so quiet. She turned back to the road ahead and started up the car, then began to drive.

The ride there seemed to fly by. What was usually a ten minute journey felt like she blinked and she was already turning to corner down Mac’s street.

And in slowing the car down as she searched for a good place to temporarily park, a soft whimper sounded from behind her. At first she ignored it - brushing it off as Veronica or Mac letting out a cough. But then she heard it again.

“Mara?”

Following Veronica’s question came what was unmistakably a sob in Mac’s voice, and Heather felt her heart twist. She tried to keep her eyes glued to the road ahead, but she couldn’t help but glance repeatedly into the rear view mirror, trying to catch sight of what was happening behind her. She got little insight from the dark reflection, and could only listen to cries begin to grow louder and louder from the back seat. By the time she parked the car in front of Mac’s house, Mac’s voice became muffled. Heather unbuckled her seat belt so that she could easily twist her body around to look at what was going on.

She saw Mac, face buried in Veronica’s chest, heaving in uneven breaths as Veronica ran her hand up and down her back, her head resting on her golden locks (as best as she could with a flower crown in the way). Heather furrowed her brow, confused.

“Mac?”

She caught Veronica’s eye, and it seems that they both shared the same cluelessness as each other.

“Hey, Mac,” she repeated, reaching over to her. “What’s up?”

“Am scrd shs gnna de.”

She blinked.

“I can’t understand you.”

Suddenly her head jolted off of Veronica, and she turned to glare at her with watery, blazing eyes.

“ _I’m scared she’s gonna die!_ ” she screeched, before resuming to sobbing against Veronica’s neck. Veronica seemed to pull her in for a secure hug, following her rocking movements. Chandler could only stare at her in bewilderment.

“What are you talking about?”

McNamara didn’t reply, so Veronica stepped in. She looked at her with a serious stare.

“Who do you _think_ she’s talking about?”

Chandler just deadpanned back at her.

“I don’t know. That’s why I _asked_.”

“ _Heather!_ ” Mac barked, still clinging onto Veronica. “I’m talking about Heather!”

Chandler raised her brows at her.

“I don’t know why you’re-”

“Hey, Mara, listen,” Veronica cut her off to raise Mac’s chin up to meet her at eye level. “She’ll be fine, okay? She’ll-”

“No she _won’t_ !” she snapped, her voice breaking. “She won’t be fine, and she hasn’t _been_ fine for _months_!” She buried her face in her hands, muffling her wailing. Chandler could only watch the scene play out in front of her, a little stunned.

“I think you’re-”

“I know that,” Veronica interrupted her again, to her annoyance. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything about it.”

Mac snapped her head up to face her. “What the fuck _can_ we do? Sh-she doesn’t listen to me! I keep telling her to go to a doctor or- or _something_ , I dunno, but…” She tucked her knees up onto the seat, her mouth hiding behind them as she swayed back and forth. “She just doesn’t. She doesn’t fuckin’ listen to me!” She hid her face with her arms as they wrapped around her. “I-I don’t know what to do…”

“Oh, Mara…” Veronica grimaced, shifting closer to her side to wrap an arm around her. “It… it can be scary going to get help for shit. It’s difficult admitting you have a problem, and-”

“But how does she not _see_ it?” Mac cried. “Doesn’t she think throwing up every goddamn meal is a _problem_ ?” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Doesn’t it hurt? O-or feel horrible, or… doesn’t she get sick of it?” She squeezed the drops of tears out of her murky hazel gaze. “Because it hurts _me_ . How doesn’t it hurt her _more_?”

Chandler’s brows knitted as she continued to speak. Where did all of this come from?

Well, the answer was obvious, but why was she getting so _emotional_ about it? Sure, Mac was the most emotional of them all, but Duke was… fine.

_Is she?_

“It’s like I’m watching her waste away. I-I can’t stand it.” She nestled into the crook of Veronica’s neck, her shoulders rising and falling in an uneven fashion. “I don’t want her to die, Ronnie,” she whimpered helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want her to die…”

Chandler fluttered her lashes at her.

“Mac, she’s not going to die,” she said cooly. “You’re overreacting. She’s fine.”

“She’s _not_ fine!” Veronica suddenly snapped, making her flinch. “Because Heather’s right! She’s fucking wasting away! Her body’s being fucking _destroyed_!”

Chandler edged back a little, falling into silence as Veronica’s mocha gaze burned into her, feeling like some sort of punishment.

“And the worst part is that you don’t even _care_ !” she spat, still holding onto Mac tightly as she continued to sob on her shoulder. “You’re supposed to be her friend! You’ve known her for six fucking years and you give zero shits that she’s letting her own body _rot_!”

Each word that came out of Veronica’s mouth seemed to pierce Chandler’s chest and twist something inside, causing a physical pain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she snapped. “Where the hell are you getting the idea that she’s _dying_?”

Veronica shot her a look that could only be described as a blend of disbelief and _disgust_.

“Heather, do you honestly fucking think that she can live like this?” She leaned a little closer, leering at her. “You really think she’s gonna last much longer throwing every ounce of food in her system?”

For the first time, Chandler had to think.

She’d never considered that before.

She’d never considered the idea that Heather might-

“Mara, I’m staying at yours tonight, is that okay?” Veronica returned to McNamara, who peered up at her, tears still wetting her cheeks.

“B-but we have school tomorrow-”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Chandler let out an indignant huff. “You don’t _actually_ think I would let her die, would you?”

Veronica whipped her head back towards her, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve never shown any indication that you cared.”

Chandler gulped.

“I _do_ care.”

“ _Act like it!_ ” Veronica hissed, before swinging the car door open and dragging McNamara out with her. Chandler stared after her, at first shocked, then she scowled and opened her door up to. She didn’t even bother closing it in favour of strutting after Veronica and McNamara up the pathway.

“I act like I don’t _care_ ,” she yelled after them, relieved when they stopped and turned around to look at her, “because she doesn’t _want_ my help! She never _has_!”

“Doesn’t matter what she _wants_ ,” Veronica retorted, causing the sharp pain in her chest to begin to morph into one of anger. “And maybe consider there’s a reason for that.”

“ _Because she doesn’t give a flying fuck!_ ” she screeched. “She doesn’t give a shit about _me_ , so why should I give a shit about her?” She took a step forward, her heel close to clanging against the pavement. “All I’m good for to her is being someone who she can _leech_ off of!” She sneered at Veronica. “Kind of like you.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, and Chandler felt like she should be smug that she probably hit a mark on her.

But she wasn’t.

“Oh, and that’s a _problem_ for you, now?” Veronica then spat back. “I would’ve thought having your _friends_ leech off of you would fuel your big fucking ego.”

Chandler swallowed.

“And I don’t, by the way,” she said, her tone softening. It sounded like it hurt from all the yelling. “Not anymore, anyway.” She avoided Chandler’s gaze, pursing her lips into a tight line. “But even if _Heather_ does, I don’t care. She’s my friend, and _apparently_ she’s supposed to be _your_ friend too.” She caught her eye again, meeting her with a darkened gaze. Chandler couldn’t see anger in it anymore, though.

She just saw fear.

“I never said Heather was a saint. She’s not.” The hand that had been holding onto McNamara’s arm curled into a tight ball. “But I like her better when she’s alive and well.” She bit her lip. “She hasn’t been one of those things the entire time I’ve known her. I’d rather hold onto the other the best I can.” She then turned back around to begin stalking to the door of McNamara’s house.

Chandler grinded her teeth together, trying to process everything being thrown at her.

“She can’t _die_!” she finally said. “You’re overthinking this! You have to be!”

She could accept that Heather Duke wasn’t _well_. That was obvious.

But her _dying_ ? That was too extreme. Too unreal. That _couldn’t_ happen.

Veronica turned around again, this time with a dulled expression.

“I wish I was, Heather, but I’m _not_ .” Her voice sounded as if she were _begging_ Chandler to understand. “She can’t go on like this.”

“I don’t want her to die,” McNamara whispered weakly. Veronica wrapped an arm around her.

“I don’t either.”

That feeling in her chest turned back into a harsh sting, gripping onto her lungs like claws.

“She’s not going to-”

“ _Save it_ ,” Veronica cut in harshly, before shooting her one final deflated gaze, one sad enough to penetrate through Chandler’s chest, accompanied by Mac’s reddened eyes and tear-stained face to make sure she’d bleed out from the wound. Then they both turned away from her, gliding over the pathway and up the stairs, and finally opening the door.

And that was Chandler’s cue to finally dart forward.

“I don’t want her to die either!” she exclaimed. “She’s my friend! I wouldn’t just stand back and let her _die_!”

Neither of them turned around when Veronica replied with,

“Maybe you should let her know that.”

They both stepped in the house, Mac grabbing the handle to pull the door shut.

Just before the inevitable click, Veronica finally turned around to catch Chandler’s eye.

It felt like a bullet through her skull.

The door then shut, leaving her outside in the cold December air, under a dark, blank sky, with a million of unpleasant thoughts infesting her brain.

 _No,_ she told herself as she slowly turned away from the door. _No, she’s not going to die, that’s ridiculous._

She repeated that over and over again like a mantra as she made her way back to the car.

_She’s not going to die._

It looped like a broken recorder during the silent drive home.

_She can’t die._

She stopped the car in front of her house, slamming the door behind her and marching up the steps to her front door. Knowing her parents were probably home, she didn’t slam this door, only making a quiet click.

_She won’t die._

She stalked down the hallway, but instead of going straight to her room as per usual, she made a turn, making her way to a room that she hasn’t touched in years. She slowly opened the door, feeling odd in doing so. When was the last time she’d touched this room?

_She won’t die._

She took a cautious step inside, flicking on the light. The room lit up, and she saw an old grand piano, closed and covered in dust. She saw the old couch she hadn’t sat on in years, some closed books sitting on the coffee table in front of it. As she walked past, she saw that not all of those books belonged to her.

_She’s not dying._

She stopped in front of the bookshelf, scanning over the many spines, searching for title that was of some use to her. She remained like that for about a minute, unable to find anything. Then she caught sight of something.

_Psychology and mental health._

Never something she’d read. She didn’t see any appeal in the subject. Regardless, she took hold of the book, spun around and marched back out the room, switching the light back off and shutting the door behind her. She scurried back towards the stairs and was quick to make it to her room, switching her light on.

_I’ll prove she’s not dying._

She wasn’t even sure anything helpful would be in this book. Nevertheless, she sat down at her vanity, opening up the book in front of her, onto the index.

_Eating disorders - page 28._

She frantically flipped through the pages, up until she landed on the number.

_Anorexia? No._

She read on a little further.

_Bulimia nervosa._

She didn’t know it had a longer name.

_Whatever._

She skimmed over the text, searching for the word _death_ all to prove that no _death_ would be involved in this-

_Purging can lead to death._

She froze.

Then she read it again.

_Purging can lead to death._

And again.

_Purging can lead to death._

Again.

_Purging can lead to-_

She slammed the book shut, stared at the cover for a moment, before slowly lifting her head.

Her eyes landed on the closest photo sitting on a shelf of her vanity. A photo of her and Heather Duke, back when they were… eleven? No, Heather would’ve been twelve by then…

She picked it up, staring at the young, bright-eyed girl she had met in that music lesson. The girl who she had become friends with purely because she thought it would be cool to have to friends of the same name.

The girl who she remained friends with, because…

- _death_.

The thought jumped on her like a predator.

_She’s going to die._

Her grip on the photo tightened.

_She’s going to die._

She slowly stood up, moving away from the book and over to her bed. The photo remained in her hand as she flopped onto the mattress.

_She’s not going to die._

She went into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out an old notebook, numbers scribbled down in it inside. For now, she kept it by her side, while picking up her phone and dialing Heather’s number.

“Hello?”

She sounded tired. Oh well.

“Hey, Heather.”

“What do you want?” Though it was a question, it sounded more like a demand.

“Just wondering if you’re up for ditching tomorrow,” she said with a shrug. “Mac said she’ll probably come,” she added.

“Uh, why?”

“Why not? You’re really going to miss up an opportunity to pick out a birthday present?”

There was a brief silence.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“Ugh, ten? My parents will notice me ditching if I’m not out the house by-”

“ _Fine,_ nine, then,” she groaned. “See you then.”

“Okay? But why are you-”

Heather hung up before she could finish. Instead, she occupied herself with opening up the notebook by her side, flicking through the pages of scribbled numbers, up until she found the right one. One she’d never actually dialed before; she never needed to. It had just been there for emergencies.

_She won’t die._

She read over the number, dialing as she went along, then hesitantly placed the phone next to her ear.

“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment? Tomorrow - it’s urgent.

Ten thirty? Yeah, if that’s the best you can do.

Patient’s name? Heather.

Heather Lee Duke.”

The call ended after some formal sign-off, and Heather placed the phone down. She sank back onto her pillow, the photo still in her hand, pressed against her stomach.

_I won’t let her die._


	2. The Colour Green

_Mac!_

Chandler shoved past the swarms of students slamming into her shoulders at every turn, so many of them towering over her, looking down her her as if she were a pest. Hell, maybe they weren’t. Maybe they couldn’t even see her; she was one of those tiny flies that wouldn’t become a bother until they flew an inch away from your face. In that case, you’d just swat at it or even squish it between your palms, as if it were nothing.

That’s what she felt like right now. One of those tiny flies - unnoticeable until she became irritating.

 _Doesn’t matter,_ she told herself as she made it to the end of the first corridor. _Doesn’t matter what anyone thinks - I need to find Mac._

She wasn’t even sure if Mac was here yet. If only her parents had let her ride to Westerburg with her, but _nope_ , apparently she was to get here _early_ or _not at all_. Fuck that shit.

She wasn’t even sure where she was right now. She was so fucking helpless. She’d been in this building for a total of five minutes, and already she was lost. Lost in a sea of students who were all older, more experienced than her.

_Calm yourself. You’ll never find her here. It’s like looking for a hay in a needle stack._

New objective: find the cafeteria.

She had to scramble out of the centre of hallway and let herself slam into the wall of lockers, the clanging sound being drowned out by the sounds of footsteps and chattering.

She then raised herself up onto her tiptoes, trying to make herself as tall as she could.

As her eyes scanned the hallway for a sign of a door that looked as if it may belong to a cafeteria, something caught her eye.

Through the violent ocean of students, she spotted a familiar, tiny figure. Said tiny figure had only caught her eye since someone had slammed into her, pushing her over and onto her knees. Almost instinctively did she dive back in to reach out for the arm that wasn’t busy scrambling to gather her folders back together.

“Heather!” she called, fingers latching onto her dark green coat. Heather whipped her head up at the sound of her name, and she raised her brows in making eye contact with her.

“Heather,” she said, before grabbing the folders splayed out on the floor, heavy feet around them threatening to step all over them. “Hi.”

“Come on, get up,” she told her, glancing around to see judgemental eyes staring at them both, burning into her skin until it stung. “Quick.”

“I’m _trying_!” Duke snapped, grabbing onto Chandler’s red blazer and climbing up her. Chandler frowned, but still helped to haul her onto her feet. Once she was standing, she sighed. “Sorry, I…” She bit her lip, before shooting a quick glance to her surroundings. “Hi,” she repeated, this time a little more chippy. The corner of Chandler’s mouth quirked up, just for a second.

“Hey,” she replied, before giving a tug on her sleeve. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Gladly,” Duke said, sounding more lighthearted than a few moments ago. “If we can find a way out, that is.”

Chandler stared at the path ahead of her, or at least, what she could see of it. There were just so many faces, all of them whizzing by and blurring her vision.

“Sure we will,” she said, though she hoped it was as convincing as it was a lie. “Just say if you see something that looks like a cafeteria.”

“‘Kay,” Duke grunted, keeping close to her as they continued to make their way down the hallway.

Then, of course, of _course_ , some weight slammed into them both, causing Chandler to lose her footing and fall onto Duke. The girl beneath her let out a surprised yelp, while Chandler let out a groan and she whipped her head back up to see who had pushed her.

No one. Whoever had slammed into them had simply walked away, sinking back into the crowd. Because clearly she wasn’t an issue worth stopping in the middle of the corridor for. She was only something to be pushed aside to make more room.

“Fuck…” Duke grunted from beneath her, and suddenly Chandler was reminded that she was probably crushing the smaller girl. She quickly scrambled onto her feet, pulling her up with her.

Duke blew some of her black curls out of her face. “So, is most of my time here going to be spent on the ground?”

Chandler frowned, then brought her hands up to cup her face and looked her dead in the eye, all the while Duke held a startled expression at the action.

“No. No, it won’t,” she told her sternly, before grabbing her wrist and dragging her off to God-knows-where.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

_No, but one of us needs to, and clearly you don’t, so…_

“Yes!”

They turned another corner, and it was as if her non-existent God that had been haunting her childhood had decided to cut her some slack.

Double doors that for sure lead to the cafeteria.

“See?” she said, pointing to the doors. “We found it eventually.”

“How could I have ever doubted you,” she heard Duke say, her tone a little dry. She paid no heed to it, instead focused on cantering over to the cafeteria.

She fell into those doors, and when entering the room, she was met with the ability to finally take a breath of air that wouldn’t suffocate her lungs with gross teenage sweat.

Granted, the air in here wasn’t great either. There was a lingering scent of badly cooked cafeteria food, but regardless, it was _something_.

“Thank God,” Duke muttered, coming up to stand next to her. “It was getting clammy as all hell in there.”

She knew that was probably supposed to be a comforting thought, but all it did was twist something in Chandler’s chest.

“Mac’s in for a hard time,” she murmured, looking back into the hallway through the murky windows. “I hope she finds us.”

She turned back to Duke, and saw that she was arching a brow at her.

“Why don’t we go and find her?”

Chandler frowned. “I was trying to, but it’s like a fucking maze in there.”

“You know you could’ve just waited outside the entrance, right?”

She stared at her for a moment.

“You know there’s more than one entrance, _right_ ?” _Not my fault my parents wouldn’t give her a ride here!_

Any vexation that had been in her system melted when she saw the apologetic look in Duke’s eye. She gave a sigh.

“Sorry, I just…” She bit her lip when she gave a side glance to the doors again. “I’m worried. For Heather, I mean,” she quickly added. _I can’t be worried. One of us needs to be calm, here._ “The other day she started breaking down because she was that scared to come here.” She lowered her voice a little when saying that, not wanting the few students in the cafeteria to overhear her.

Duke gave an understanding nod. “I know, I know.” She looked over to the many empty tables. “We can sit down for a bit, I suppose.”

Chandler shot a glance to the door, then to the tables, and she sighed.

“Alright.”

She lead Duke down to whatever table happened to be the cleanest, settling on one not too far from the door. Duke sat down on the bench, while Chandler clambered onto the table to sit on that instead, still staring at the door.

“So what do you have first?” she recalled Duke asking. It took her a while to actually respond.

“Uh- French, I think,” she muttered, her eyes not leaving the door.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Duke shift, as well as let out a sigh. Chandler snapped her head over to her, and saw she was clambering onto the table to sit next to her.

“It’s okay if you’re worried, you know,” she began. “I’m-”

“I’m not worried!” she blurted out, cutting off whatever she was about to say. “I mean, I _am_ , but not-” She bit her lip. “Not in that way. I’m just…” She stared at her hands, trying to think of the right word. “I’m concerned. That’s all.”

She peered back at Duke, who raised her brows at her. Chandler hoped she couldn’t see through the facade.

 _I’m worried,_ she thought to herself shamefully, _I’m just as worried as you. As Mac. As anyone._ She swallowed. _Maybe even more so._

_But I can’t let that show._

But she couldn’t help but feel like Duke could read the words hidden underneath her expression. Maybe she knew her well enough to recognize what was real and what was a knee-jerk reaction to anything that could be deemed as a threat.

“Right…” Duke muttered, her head hanging. “Sorry I doubted you.”

Chandler tilted her head in confusion.

“Uh, it’s okay?” she replied with uncertainty. “I just-”

A tap on her shoulder interrupted her. She whipped her head around behind her and looked down, and a wave of relief crashed into her in locking eyes with McNamara.

“Mac!” she exclaimed, swirling around on the table to face her. Mac weakly smiled up at her, and Chandler held out her arms so that she would climb up into her embrace. Mac got the message, and hopped onto the bench to sit on the table, and returned her hug.

“Hey, Heather,” she heard Duke say as she awkwardly shuffled around on the table as well.

“Hi…” Mac replied, her voice muffled by the red blazer. Chandler’s brows knitted, though she kept a smile pinned to her expression.

“You alright?” She then glanced back at the door in confusion, realising she hadn’t seen her come through them, as well as the fact that she had come in from behind. “When did you get here?”

Mac looked up at her, still holding onto her arms. “Just then,” she replied. “I came in from there.” She then pointed over to another door - the fire escape. Chandler widened her eyes.

“Is that allowed?” Duke questioned. Chandler glanced at her and shrugged.

“Who cares. Anything to avoid _that_.” She gestured towards the main door, mainly to the windows revealing the still-crowded hallways.

“Yeah, that’s why I did it,” Mac murmured, resting her head on Chandler’s shoulder. “If I went through the main entrance alone, I might’ve…” She trailed off. “I don’t think it would’ve ended well,” she eventually settled on. Chandler shot her a sympathetic smile,patting her on the shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she told her. “Also, you’ll be with us during the frees.” She lifted her head up by the chin. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have me or Heather.” She turned back to Heather. “Right, Heather?”

Duke wasn’t looking in her direction when she glanced at her, rather, over to the fire escape. At the sound of her name, however, her head snapped back to face her.

“Oh, yeah. Just come find me whenever.”

Mac gave them both a thankful smile.

“Okay,” she said. “But… what if I don’t find you?”

Chandler pursed her lips, trying to think of something quick.

“How about here?” she suggested, patting the table they sat on. “We can just meet here at lunch and frees.”

Mac looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds-”

“Ey, freshmen.”

A voice that sounded much older than the three of them combined made them turn around. Chandler locked eyes with an older, taller girl, accompanied by two other girls. They all looked to be seniors.

Shit. High school’s hierarchy - how could she forget?

“Uh, yeah?” she replied, keeping her tone as calm as possible.

The girl who she assumed has been the one to speak took a step forward.

“You’re on our spot.” She pointed to the table with narrowed eyes piercing through Chandler’s fragile, breakable skull. “Move.”

Chandler swallowed down the urge to say “yes, sorry,” and instead turned her body back around to face her, keeping her movements as smoothly as she could. She recalled Heather and Heather doing the same, though in less graceful manner.

“Says who?”

The seniors widened their eyes - not out of shock or fear like so many had back in middle school, but more out of _annoyance_.

 _Right. I’m not above anyone here. I’m below everyone._ She gulped. _Just something to be kicked aside._

She was cruelly reminded of that fact when she glanced over to Duke, who was averting her gaze nervously from the three girls, shrinking under their glares.

 _No,_ she told herself. _Fuck that shit._

She turned back to stare at them with the boldest stare she could muster, straightening up her back in the process and crossing one leg over the other, and anxiously patiently waited for their reply.

“Says _us_ ,” the girl growled back, taking a step forward. “Clear off, if you know what’s good for you.”

She felt Duke tense next to her, while Mac’s leg began to frantically bounce up and down. Chandler inhaled deeply, forcing herself to keep her poise.

So she stood up on the bench, appearing to tower over the girl in front of her.

“And what?” she spat back. “What _exactly_ are you going to do?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Throw ‘em at me. They can’t possibly be as bad as you’re making them out to be.”

The girl arched a brow at her, clearly not intimidated.

 _Of course she wouldn’t be. I’m like an ant just_ begging _to be squashed_.

“I could do a lot of things, Ginger,” she hissed, grabbing Chandler by the collar of her striped pink and magenta shirt. “Maybe just toss you and your friends right off.” She snickered, and so did the other two seniors. Chandler glanced at them, then back at her with a darkened blue glare.

“Get off me,” she snarled. The girl just cackled. At her. She cackled at her, and her weak attempts to fight her off. Of course she did. She was _weak_ -

“You think you’re tough, bitch?” she guffawed. “The day hasn’t even begun yet, and you already think you’re at the top of the-”

She was interrupted by spit invading her eye. She yelped in surprise, pain and disgust, and released Chandler’s collar to stumble backwards. Her eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed at them vigorously, all the while her two friends tried to console her. One of them snapped their heads up to glare at her.

“Fucking gross, you little shit.”

Chandler just placed a hand on her hip, watching the scene play out before her.

She felt taller. Higher than them. Just for a short while, she felt in _control-_

“W-we can move if you want!”

Chandler widened her eyes at the sound of Duke’s voice. She saw the two girls turn in her direction and smirk, while Chandler whipped her head around to face her, staring her down.

“Listen to your friend, bitch.”

Without even thinking, she blurted out,

“Shut up, Heather, we are _not_ moving!” she told her firmly. Duke widened her eyes a little, before looking down and giving a small nod. Chandler frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt for yelling at her, but there was _no way_ she was going to-

“So, you gonna move or not?”

The first girl spoke up again, now facing her with one eye still being rubbed by her knuckle. It ruined the effect of what was supposed to be an intimidating glare, and Chandler found herself able to stand without fear being struck in her.

“No,” she said sternly. The girls all grimaced.

“God, you’re fucking annoying.”

Chandler scoffed.

“We were here first.”

The girl sneered at her.

“No, _we_ were. That’s been our table for _years_.”

Chandler gave her a sad pout, before sitting back down on the table.

“Pity,” she cooed. “I guess you’ll have to find somewhere else.” She ran her finger down her cheek to act as an imaginary tear. “It’s a hard life for us all.”

“ _Ugh!_ ” The girl suddenly screeched, clenching her fists. “Fine! Take it, if a _table_ means that much to your pathetic ass!”

Chandler found the audacity to smirk at her.

“You’re the one who so desperately wanted it, but sure, I’ll take you up on the offer.” She angled her chin up and smiled. “Thanks so much.”

The girl gave her one last glare, before angrily kicking at the bench holding Chandler’s feet up, then storming off, the other two girls blindly trailing behind. Chandler almost fell forward by the sudden movement beneath her feet, had it not been for Duke grabbing her. She let out a sigh of relief, and turned to thank her, but paused when she saw a guilty look in her eye.

“Sorry, Heather,” she murmured. It took Chandler a moment to figure out what she was referring to.

_Oh._

“No, no, it’s okay!” she told her, placing her hands on her shoulders. Duke looked at her doubtfully, and she sighed. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I just…” She pursed her lips. “I’m not letting us get pushed around this year, okay?”

Duke glanced up at her and slowly nodded. Chandler smiled.

“Just keep your head up.” She picked her up by the chin. “Don’t let anyone fuck with you, and you’ll be fine.”

Duke nodded again, looking a little more reassured than before. Chandler gave a light chuckle, before feeling slight fingers comb through her hair. She released Duke from her grip and turned her head slightly to Mac, who, as she had predicted, was playing with her locks. More specifically with the red silk tied around it.

“I haven’t seen this in ages,” Mac mused, running a finger over the scrunchie. Chandler chuckled.

“Yeah, because my hair hasn’t been long enough to need it.”

She then easily slipped the scrunchie off of her ginger locks and handed it over to Mac, who gleefully began to fiddle with it.

“You can hold onto it, if you like,” she told her. Her brown gaze seemed to light up. “I’ll manage.” She brushed her hair out of her face, though grew a little frustrated at how it immediately flopped back into place. “I think.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the bell suddenly ringing, echoing off the walls of the cafeteria. It was different to the one in middle school - more loud, more commanding.

“I’ll see you guys back here then, yeah?” Chandler said, glancing at both of them.

“Yeah,” Mac replied.

“Mhmm,” Duke hummed, slipping off of the table and onto the floor. Chandler and Mac followed on, the three of them walking over to the double doors, their footing almost in sync. Chandler pushed the doors open for them both, holding it in place as they stepped back into the corridor.

Somehow she’d forgotten how cramped it was in here.

“Do you want me to walk with you, Mac?” she murmured into McNamara’s ear. The brunette glanced at her, then at the crowd in front of them, and nodded.

“Yeah…”

She smiled, then looked back at Duke, who looked as if she were waiting for a cue.

“What do you have now?”

“Math.”

Chandler quickly reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out a map that all the freshmen had been given.

“Uh, Mac, what lesson do you have now?”

“Chemistry.”

She frowned. They’d have to separate.

“Uh… we need to go this way,” Chandler said regrettably, pointing to her left.

“Oh.” Duke pursed her lips. “I have to go that way.” She nodded ahead. “Guess I’ll see you later.” She then began to walk towards the crowd, hugging her folders against her chest tightly. Chandler gave her a wave, and in looking at her own hand wave from side to side, it reminded her of something.

“Hey, uh, Heather!” she called after her, stepping forward and clenching her hand into a loose fist. “We forgot to do the-”

She’d already sank into the crowd. She grimaced, disappointed.

“-Handshake.” Her hand flopped to her side, lifeless. She gave a long sigh, before turning back to Mac. “We better go, or we’ll be late for our first lesson.”

Mac frantically nodded, letting Chandler grab her arm and pull her off in the other direction. And in diving back into the sea of students, Chandler had to constantly remind herself,

_Keep your head up, let no one fuck with you._

She tightened her grip on Mac.

_I’ll be fine._

 

* * *

 

 _Ring ring_.

Duke’s lids unfolded at the sound of her alarm. Dull light sliced through her curtains and right on her eyes, blinding her. She groaned, then flipped around, away from her window, but towards her nightstand, closer to her alarm. She hissed in frustration, knowing she’d have to get out of bed at _some point_.

Regardless, she attempted to wrap her duvet around her even tighter than it had been, trying to capture any warmth that she could.

She wasn’t even sure why she was trying. She’d been trying for the last…

She stole a glance from the clock on her nightstand.

...Four hours. She’d been trying to warm up and _go to sleep_ for the past four hours.

Her first instinct was to just give up and get up. Get dressed, and drive to school.

But as she stared up at the ceiling, she remembered that life had other plans for her.

 _Ugh. At least I get to sleep in,_ she thought as she rolled over to bury her face in her pillow.

_If I could sleep, that is._

It was then that she remembered that her alarm was still going off. She growled as she peered at it, purely to reach out and slam her fist down on the button to make it shut up. The silence was a big fucking relief to her ears, and she could finally let her eyes shut again and her head sink back into her pillow.

As she made her umpteenth attempt to get _some_ form of sleep yet again, she was sure she heard her door creak open. She considered peeking over her duvet to see if it were a draft that had pushed her door open, if it had opened at all. At this point, she had no idea if she was just hearing things or not.

All of her questions were answered when a sudden weight slammed into her, knocking her breath out of her system and crushing her tiny body.

“ _Jesus!_ ” she exclaimed, eyes shooting open to look up at who she could easily predict was none other than her brother, staring down at her with a shit-eating grin that she would’ve loved to slap off of him. “Hunter, _fuck off_!”

“Hey! You can’t swear in front of your little brother!” he shot back childishly. Heather sneered at him.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” She attempted to escape from his much heavier weight holding her down, but it was hopeless. “Especially when you’re fucking _crushing_ me with your fatass!”

Hunter glowered at her. “ _You’re_ calling _me_ a fatass?” He scoffed. “Oh, the hypocrisy.”

Heather’s expression morphed into one of _fury_ at the comment, mimicking the feeling pumping through her veins. Her fingers twitched, before she lunged out and whacked him in the face with a fist. Nothing too hard. Just enough to sting.

Hunter yelped at the contact, falling right off of her and onto the ground beside the bed. Heather let herself breathe in deeply with the newfound freedom of being able to move, all the while she watched her younger, yet much taller brother hold his face.

And suddenly, the sight made her realise her mistake.

“ _Mom!_ ” he cried, scrambling back onto his feet and darting out of her room. Heather groaned as she watched him go, then called after him,

“Grow up! You’re fucking fourteen!”

Too late. His footsteps were already thumping down the stairs, to where Heather could only assume was where one of her parents were hanging around. She let out a groan, before flipping over onto her stomach and covering her ears with her palms, waiting for the inevitable lecture.

“Heather!”

Fuck.

She snapped her head backwards, off the pillow, to yell,

“ _What?_ ”

She could feel her mother’s footsteps shake the floor beneath her bed.

“Don’t hit your brother!” she scolded. “And there’s no foul mouths allowed in this house!”

Heather rolled her eyes.

“He was _crushing_ me and he wouldn’t get off!” she argued. “He started it!”

“He was _playing_ , Heather!” her mother shot back from outside her room. Heather snarled.

“He has a fantastic way of doing so.”

“You don’t hit your brother!”

Heather’s short nails clawed at her sheets in frustration.

“He shouldn’t have thrown himself on me!”

“Heather Lee Duke, any more backtalk and you’ll be grounded for a month.”

Heather bit back the urge to _scream_ at her, and instead forced out a reluctant,

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to your brother.”

She let out a hiss. “I will in a sec.”

“Good.”

She stilled as she listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway, and back down the stairs. Once she could no longer hear her, other than a faint conversation between her and her brother, she let out an exasperated sigh and fell back onto her pillow, scraping her fingers through her messed up curls.

God, if she could just stay here for the rest of the day, she would.

But _no_ , Heather just _had_ to ask her to ditch today. Whatever. Better than going to school, at least.

 _Then again… after last night…_ Her mind flashed back to those events, and she shuddered. _I don’t really wanna face anyone right now._

She couldn’t name the emotion responsible for the thought. Fatigue, maybe? No, fatigue didn’t feeling like something was swallowing her up from the inside, making her want to hide away from everyone she knew.

 _It doesn’t matter, anyway._ She sighed as she lifted her head up from her pillow. _No way I can convince Heather to cancel whatever plans she has for today._ She held her head up with her hands. _At least Emmy will be there._ She frowned. _Actually, no, that’s not a good thing. How am I supposed to face her after last night?_

She grunted as she picked herself up from the mattress.

 _Guess it doesn’t matter. It’s gonna happen anyway._ She tucked her knees up against her chest and held them in place, resting her forehead on them. _Fuck, I’m tired…_

She glanced up at her clock. Almost eight o’clock.

Heather would be here in an hour.

Letting out a groan, she untucked her legs and let them flop over the side of her bed, hating how her feet didn’t touch the floor. She let herself drop onto the carpet below and sauntered over to her rack to grab her towels, kicking some stray candy wrappers out of her path on the way there. Damn, she should really clean those up at some point. She had no idea how old they were.

Both towels in hand, she made her way out of her room and over to the shower room.

She quickly threw her green gown off and stepped into the shower cubicle, feeling relief when warm water began to run down her cold skin. She let her eyes close as she leaned against the tiled wall, feeling as if she could just sleep there and then.

Then she heard loud knocking on the door.

“Heather, are you going to apologise to your brother or not?”

Her eyes flashed open and she glared at the door, wishing her gaze could slice through the wood and chase her mother off.

“I’m in the shower!” she spat, grabbing the shampoo off the ledge.

“He’s about to leave for school.”

“Well what the hell do you want me to do? Go wave him goodbye while naked?”

“Excuse me, Missus, I don’t appreciate the talk-back.”

Heather gritted her teeth and turned away from the door, refusing to say another word.

“Heather!”

“ _Go away, mom!_ ” she snapped, rubbing the shampoo into her hair roughly.

There was a brief pause from her mother.

“We’re having a _long_ talk when you get back from school later.”

Heather wanted to snarl, but she knew she was already in a deep hole as it was, and digging herself deeper would be digging herself a grave. Instead she focused on her shower, closing her eyes as foam ran down her face. She almost felt relaxed at the sensation, had it not been for the sudden pain stabbing in her stomach. She hissed through gritted teeth, one hand shooting down to her abdomen to try and soothe it, as if it was going to do anything.

The pain continued to play with her, however, and she opened her mouth to let out a groan, but as soon as she did, some of the foam slipped past her lips. A horrid, bitter taste landed on her tongue, and she immediately spat the shampoo out in disgust.

“Ugh…” she groaned, letting herself slide down the glass wall and onto the floor, all the while the stabbing in her stomach persisted, like some sort of punishment. Perhaps for last night.

She wondered if she could stay in this shower all day. Away from everything.

She wondered if everything could just _stop_.

 

* * *

 

Chandler could already smell cigarettes.

An easy scent to recognize, since it wasn’t uncommon to catch a whiff of it in her own house. Only this time, she couldn’t help but feel it was just a little stronger than usual.

She made a turn into the main room, and she figured out why. God, there were a lot of people here. By no means was it an entire school, but this wasn’t exactly a school.

Ram’s house was… big. Not as big as hers, and nowhere near as big as Mac’s, but it was big. Oh, and they had a pool. Nothing too new - Mac had a pool.

“This isn’t too much, right?” she asked, turning to the girl currently attached to her arm. Mac didn’t look at her, instead she just gazed off at the huge crowd in front of her with a blank expression.

Suddenly Chandler just thought - it was a stupid idea to bring her here. She gets anxious in the goddamn hallways in school, why the fuck had she insisted she should come here? What a fucking-

“Woah, they have a disco ball?” Mac suddenly quipped, gazing at the shimmering silver ball spinning around and reflecting speckles of colour onto the walls and floor. “Cool!”

Chandler raised her brows at her. She admitted, she was a little surprised at how chill she was right now. She’d expected maybe a _bit_ more panic.

“Yeah, guess they do,” she replied, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Why, you wanna go dance?” She nodded towards the crowd of teens and their sporadic movements.

Mac gazed at them for a little longer. “Not… not right now,” she eventually responded. “There’s a lot of people.”

“Duh. It’s a party,” she heard Duke suddenly speak up from behind her. She whipped her gaze around to meet her.

“Heather, hush,” she told her, while her fingers curled into McNamara’s yellow blazer. “I think she knows.”

Duke pursed her lips together. “I’m just saying,” she muttered, also gazing off into the crowd before them. “What else did we expect?”

Chandler arched a brow at her dry tone.

“You don’t sound all that thrilled to be here,” she stated. Duke blinked at her.

“What, me? No, I’m _so_ excited!” she said, her tone completely deflated of emotion. Chandler gave a sigh.

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to,” she shot back. Duke averted her gaze from her.

“You _insisted_ I come.”

“Because I thought it would be a good idea!” she replied. “If Kurt and Ram wanted us to come, then it must mean we’re important enough to be invited, right?”

 _I kinda need to live up to that,_ she thought as she glanced over to a table surrounded by freshman jocks. _Better soak up whatever I can get._

“Since when did you care what _they_ thought?” Duke questioned, stepping towards her.

“I don’t,” Chandler retorted, rolling her eyes at how the table all screamed at some dumb joke one of them may have made. She couldn’t be sure - they were all like wild animals who spoke in nothing but incoherent feral screeching. “I’d call it more flipped,” she said as she began to saunter off to the edge of the room in order to avoid the main crowd. Heather and Heather followed on. “They _really_ wanted us to be at this party.” She gave an amused huff. “It’s only been, what, a month of our first year, and already we have a pretty good reputation.”

“Probably because word got around about us stealing some popular senior girls’ table,” Mac pointed out, sounding amused. “And also because I hit Ashley the other day.”

Chandler snickered. She wished she’d been there to see that.

“I’d be responsible and tell you to not hit people, but she insulted you, so it was well earned.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. Then she found herself in a position where she could see outside the sliding glass door, spotting the pool outside. “Aw, guys, you wanna go to the pool?”

“Yes!” Mac exclaimed.

“Err…” Duke looked over to the door doubtfully. “As in, _in_ the pool?”

Chandler gave her an odd look, lips curled into an amused smile. “No, ya pillowcase, we have nothing to swim in.”

“Right,” Duke grunted, nodding. “Just making sure.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Chandler then proceeded to lead the two of them around the swarms of teens, having to shuffle around a table that held a load of snacks and pop that she was for sure going to take advantage on later. Soon enough they made it to the glass door, unscaved, and opening it up and taking in the fresh air from outside was like the scent of freedom. Maybe it was the lack of sweat radiating from a bunch of fourteen year olds.

“You know my house has a pool, right?” McNamara stated as they made their way over to the edge.

“Of course I know. I’ve been to your house a bajillion times,” Chandler replied. “I just get excited when houses have pools, is all.”

“Isn’t your house big enough to have a pool?” Duke questioned.

“Yes, but are my parents going to install one?” She arched a brow at Duke. “Don’t answer that. The answer is no.”

“I guess if they’re not gonna buy you a rabbit, they’re not gonna get a pool either,” Duke sighed.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Chandler muttered. Before stopping a short distance away from the pool. “Next time we should definitely bring some swimming shit,” she said, gazing at the light ripples of the water shimmering under the darkened sky. “It would be so fun to have a mini pool party.”

Chandler then vaguely recalled hearing heavy footsteps from behind her, but she paid them no attention in favour of listening to Duke speak.

“I don’t really know about tha-”

_Wham!_

Chandler and Mac both instinctively latched onto each other, stumbling backwards as two jocks slammed into Duke and taking her down with them into the water. She heard a scream, which was soon enough muffled by water.

“Heather!” she yelled, though for a second she couldn’t see her with how the two boys were both splashing around playfully, laughing amongst themselves, and creating bubbles that covered up where Duke’s silhouette should have been. She stepped forward and leaned down on the edge of the pool, followed on by Mac who was frantically searching for Duke.

Then she appeared, breaking through to the surface with a desperate gasp, arms thrashing around as she tried to stay afloat.

“Heather! Heather, here!” Chandler instructed, reaching out her arm towards her while also drowning out the two boys cackling at the whole situation. Duke eventually managed to grab onto her arm, still heavily breathing and kicking. She felt Mac grab onto her waist and pull her back as she yanked Duke out of the water.

She crawled out, shaking, shivering, and head hanging in what she could only assume was shame. Chandler frowned, staying seated on the floor to stay at her level.

“God, are you alright?” she asked, wide-eyed. Duke peered at her nervously, still shaking.

“I-I… um…”

“You look freezing!” Mac exclaimed.

Duke tucked her knees under her chin and hugged them closer, mouth hidden behind them as she continued to shake.

Suddenly the laughter from in the pool caught her attention, and Chandler turned her gaze away from Duke and over to the two boys, who she could now see were none other than Kurt and Ram, both in swim trunks

“What the _fuck_ do you both think you’re doing?” she yelled over to them, keeping one hand firmly on Duke’s shoulder.

“Aw, come on, learn to take a joke!” Ram called over to her. Chandler sneered.

“Maybe tell a _funny_ joke and I’ll consider it.”

“That _was_ funny!” Kurt protested.

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was _not_!” She stood up and slammed her foot down. “God, you’re both so fucking infuriating!”

Kurt and Ram just laughed. At her. They laughed at her.

Clearly she wasn’t intimidating. Not in the slightest.

She was going to have to change that.

She let her expression calm, then stepped towards the edge.

“Come here for a second, boys,” she ordered, voice low and welcoming, gesturing them with her index finger. The two of them paused for a second, glanced at each other, before obeying. She kept a cool grin as they swam over to her.

“You know, you two, I’ve _really_ been enjoying this party so far,” she cooed, leaning down to hook her fingers under their chins. The two of them gazed up at her, eyes suddenly filled with excitement, one she could eventually recognize as completely hormone-driven.

 _Ew. They’re not even that attractive._ Honestly, the best quality they held was the little muscle they’d manage to build up in the football games they’d been partaking in for the past while, but that’s not saying much. She’d seen how they looked compared to the much more attractive juniors and seniors - they both looked like twigs clinging onto trunks.

“And I would _hate_ to have to change my opinion on this. I really would.” She began to leer at them, and then her grip on their chins grew tighter. She grew satisfied in hearing them wince.

“So maybe you two should be a little bit more _careful_ ,” she hissed, narrowing her gaze. “You wouldn’t want to get on the _bad_ side of me, now, would you?”

Kurt looked frozen and Ram physically swallowed his saliva. Chandler simple stared down at them, keeping her gaze as dark and as threatening as she could muster.

“N-no,” Kurt eventually squeaked out. Chandler gave a satisfied huff.

“Good.” She released their faces, and they rubbed their jaws where her nails had dug into their skin. “Now be a dear and go fetch Heather a towel.” She stood up, towering over them both, and pointed to the house behind them. Ram was the first to nod, and he climbed out of the pool, followed by Kurt. Chandler stepped back as to not let any water get on her, and she watched them dart along the lawn, and let herself laugh at how Kurt slipped on the grass and fell.

The only idiots here was them. Not her. Good.

She finally turned back around to Duke, was was still sitting on the concrete with Mac cuddled up next to her and patting her on the back.

“You should’ve told us you were afraid of water!” Mac said, frowning. “We wouldn’t have brought you to the pool otherwise!”

Chandler widened her eyes. “You’re afraid of water?”

Duke’s pursed lips rubbed together, and she slowly nodded.

“How come?”

Duke shrugged. “I dunno! I nearly drowned as a kid, so I’ve never swam since!” She crossed her arms, looking disgruntled. “It’s my brothers’ fault. The fuckers held me underwater for like a minute for a laugh.”

“You should’ve told me!”

Duke arched a brow at her. “It’s stupid. I wasn’t going to tell you not to go to a pool because I have a dumb fear of water.”

“It’s not stupid!” Mac protested.

“Yeah.” Chandler went over to her side and sat down next to her. “If you don’t like water, I wouldn’t have-”

“Whatever, it’s fine. It’s whatever.” Duke shrugged again. “I can handle going near water. I can handle it just _fine_.”

Chandler’s brows knitted, though before she could respond, she spotted Kurt and Ram making their way back over to them, this time with a towel in hand. She made sure to scowl at them when she held out her hand to take it off of them. She refused to thank them when they handed it over.

She gave it to Duke, who immediately began to rub the towel over herself, starting with her dripping hair. Chandler turned back to Kurt and Ram, and saw they’d turned back around, ready to leave them.

“ _Ah!_ ” She stopped them both in their tracks, and they nervously turned back around. She then pointed to Duke. “You owe her an apology.”

Kurt and Ram glanced at each other, looking somewhat humiliated by the concept, before they stepped forward.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Duke glanced at them over her shoulder.

“You better be,” she muttered, her tone bitter. For the briefest of moments, they looked almost intimidated, but it didn’t last. Heather Duke wasn’t exactly the most intimidating person in the world. Not when you stood at less than 4’8 in height and had little muscle to defend yourself. All she really had were words, and even then she rarely used them. Chandler just didn’t know why, though - she had a pretty sharp tongue. She knew from experience.

They watched the two boys leave, and Duke finished up drying off what she could. Of course, there’s only so much a towel can do against drenched clothes. And damn, thank God Duke chose to wear a black shirt rather than a white one, though she couldn’t imagine how heavy her green blazer must’ve felt.

Chandler couldn’t help but pity her.

“I’d… offer you a ride home, but my parents told me they wouldn’t be here until nine thirty,” she said. Duke rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Don’t bother.”

“Uh- I can probably find a phone somewhere and call dad. I’m sure he won’t give a shit taking you home,” McNamara offered. “He never does,” she added, a little too nonchalantly.

“No.”

“We could always call your parents instead,” Chandler suggested. “Maybe they’ll-”

She was cut off by a laugh leaving Duke. “As if! You really think they know I’m at a party right now?” She eyed her. “They think I’m at your house, having a book reading session.” She then gazed at the ground and sighed. “Probably should be, too. Would’ve been a better idea,” she murmured. “Helping you out with reading sounds way more fun than _this_.” She shook some water off her sleeves violently.

Chandler raised her brows.

“Why? Don’t you want to be here?”

“Well, no!” She threw her hands up in the air as she glared at her. “What, did you really think a party hosted by _Kurt and Ram_ was gonna end well? How did you not see this coming?”

Chandler frowned. “How was I supposed to predict you’d get thrown in a pool?”

“Not _that_ , just…” Her eyes darted back and forth as she searched for her words. “Just… did you _really_ expect this to end well?” She gazed at her as if she were dense. “What the fuck did you expect to happen?”

Chandler stared at her, dumbfounded. “I just wanted to have a night out! I’ve always wanted to go to a party, and we were actually _invited_ to this one. What was I gonna do, not show up?”

“Of course _you’d_ think that. Kurt and Ram never bother you!” She shot a quick glance to Mac - one Mac didn’t get a chance to catch. “But us? Me? They’ve been harassing us for _years_!”

Chandler stared at them both for a second.

“I was gonna let anything happen!” she eventually argued. Duke arched a brow at her.

“Yeah, well, something _did_ happen.” She then slid off her shoe and tipped it over, letting a stream of water pour out. “So that didn’t exactly go to plan, did it?”

The words began to sting. Almost like a punishment.

She was right. She failed.

“You can’t be blaming _me_ for this!” she retorted. “I never _wanted_ this to happen!”

“But it did.”

“Sure, but I got them to apologise, right?”

“I don’t care! I should have _never_ come here!”

She turned away from her, and Chandler could only stare at her.

She wondered if she was right. Maybe it was a mistake to come here.

Maybe this was her fault.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” she muttered. “I was the one who got Kurt and Ram to fuck off-”

“Yeah, you _always_ are!” She glanced over to the glass door, then back at her with her ivy-green eyes. “They’re practically scared of you at this point! But me?” The anger in her eyes faltered for a second. “Of course they’re not.” She suddenly stood up, the left over water in her shoes creating a gross squelching sound as she sank into her drenched socks. “I don’t know what you expected in dragging me here.”

“Shut up and stop _blaming_ me!” she fired back, standing up as well and glaring down at her. She didn’t need to be lectured about something she had no control over.

 _But I do. She’s right - Kurt and Ram_ are _scared of me._

_I could’ve stopped this._

And suddenly she realised she’d managed to silence her with her harsh tone, with how she was shrinking under her gaze. The fire in her own blue eyes melted, and she let her shoulders drop.

“Look, I’m sorry this happened to you, okay?” She gestured to her wet clothes. “If I could stop it, I would, but I can’t go back in time, can I?”

Duke bit her lip and averted her gaze.

“No.” She crossed her arms. “Sorry for ruining your first party,” she muttered, remorse clear in her voice.

Chandler couldn’t help but feel bad.

“You didn’t-”

“I should just go dry off,” she cut in, turning away from her. “I can probably find a hair dryer or something.”

Chandler stared after her doubtfully as she began to stalk back to the door.

“Uh… hate to break it to you, but I doubt there’s a hair dryer in a house owned by two guys.”

Duke paused for a second, not turning around, though Chandler did hear her sigh.

“Then I’ll find _something_ ,” she hissed.

“Um… you want me to come with you?” Mac suddenly chimed, scrambling onto her feet at last. Duke finally glanced in her direction.

“Yeah, sure,” she said dryly. Mac nodded, and scampered over to her. Chandler watched them both go.

“I’ll… um… I’ll meet you inside, then?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Something in her tone indirectly told Chandler that she hadn’t been forgiven, and she felt something twist in her chest. She sighed, then turned back to the pool and walked over to it without a second thought.

She sat down on the edge, staring down at her reflection being carried by the gentle ripples. She could make out that her scrunchie was slightly crooked, and she tightened it. Everything else was intact, though - her crimson tank top, her bright red blazer and her grey skirt. Everything was fine.

Everything should be fine.

She dipped a finger and swirled it around in the water. Everything was not fine.

_Heather’s right. What the fuck did I expect?_

She grimaced at her reflection.

_It’s not like I wanted this to happen._

She kicked off her red shoes and slipped off her socks, then let her feet sink into the water. She ignored the chill that shot through her when water hit skin.

_It’s not my fault, right? This isn’t my fault._

She rested her head in her palms.

_Why is it always my fault with her? Why is when I try to help, I just get yelled at for it?_

Her lids drooped a little.

 _Well, it wasn’t_ always _like that. But she just… never wants my help anymore. I’m doing my best, right? Am I not enough?_

She stared back at her reflection, unblinking.

_Maybe I’m not enough. Just like with everyone. I’m not enough for her. Maybe she doesn’t trust me to be enough._

She tore her gaze away from the water, instead gazing at the green leaves of the trees swaying in the light breeze.

_Am I not enough for her?_

Then she snapped out of it.

 _The hell am I thinking?_ She shook her head, stealing her feet back from the water and grabbing the abandoned towel to dry them off. _You’re here to have a good time, Heather. No one like’s a sour-ass at a party._

She slipped her shoes back on and made her way indoors, and as she shoved past the swarm of dancing teens, she heard her name.

“Hey, Heather!”

She glanced over to where that could have come from. Her eyes landed on that table full of jocks. Oh, God, what the fuck do they want?

“Come here!”

Oh dear.

For whatever reason - maybe it was because she was alone - she made her way over to them.

“What do you want?” she questioned as soon as she was in ear-shot. Though, surprisingly, they didn’t look or even feel like a threat. Rather, they looked sort of… friendly? Weird.

“Kurt and Ram told us about what happened at the pool,” one of them said. Her face scrunched up in hearing that. Those dicks! God, this was going to be so humiliating, for her _and_ for Heather-

“Yeah, we thought it was a dick move,” another one said. “So we thought we might as well make it up to you.”

She gazed at them curiously. “Oh? How so?” A chair was pulled out for her, and she brushed off some left over crums before sitting down. No way was she going to get messy in front of these douches.

They didn’t reply with words. Instead, they replied by sliding three small glasses with a clear liquid in them. She stared at them, confused.

“Assuming you haven’t had any yet,” a guy said. She peered at him.

“Have what?”

“Um… shots? You know.” He pointed to the glasses. “Shots.”

Shots…

_Oh. Shots!_

She heard laughter come from one end of the table.

“What, you’re telling me you’ve never had shots before?”

Low chuckles sounded from around the crowded circle she sat in, all the while her jaw hung open slightly as she tried to think of what to say.

No, she had never taken shots before. Hell, had she ever had alcohol before?

She couldn’t name a single scenario.

“We thought you were cool!” she heard someone proclaim, making her whole body flush with embarrassment and shame.

“Shut up, Garrett,” someone else hissed. “That doesn’t mean she hasn’t had alcohol before.”

Heather gulped, while she was eyed curiously by… ten? Yeah, about ten pairs of eyes. And clearly she stayed silent and unmoving for far too long.

“Or not.”

They laughed again, and Heather knew she had to turn this around somehow.

“Okay, so I’ve never had alcohol before,” she admitted, daring to glance at them. They all proceeded to let out a chorus of “ooooooo’s” in response, and she quickly interrupted them. “ _But!_ But I have my reasons.” She slowly reached for one of the glasses. The table fell silent as they listened to her intently. “You see, my parents are… pretty strict.” True. “And the best alcohol we have in the house is wine.” Lie. She knew there were beer and whisky in the cabinets. And they weren’t out of reach either. “Like I’m gonna drink that piss.”

There was some more laughter, only this time it wasn’t aimed at her. More aimed _with_ her.

“Why do you think I bothered to come here, anyway?” She gave a sly smirk as she lifted the first glass. “For a sing and a dance?” Actually, she doesn’t mind either of those things, but she knew they sounded childish, and she wanted to be seen as anything but. “Of course not. What better thrill is there than getting drunk behind your parents back?”

Thrill? Lie. Fear? True.

But clearly they agreed with her lie, and that was fine. So long as she was floating above them, she thought as she tipped the first glass into her mouth, it was fine.

Holy _fuck_ that’s strong as all hell.

As she began to cough as the vodka made its way down her throat, everyone began to laugh again.

“Too strong?” someone asked. She pressed pause on her coughing fit to glare at him.

“Of course not.” She held his gaze as she grabbed the second glass, and she swallowed it much quicker this time, almost quick enough for that flavour to not hit her taste buds. Though, when it did, she _forced_ herself to not cough.

“Oh shit! Down the other one!”

That’s exactly what she did. Again, she refused to cough, even though the taste felt like… something. Maybe they felt like needles stabbing her tongue, or a shit tonne of feathers had been shoved down her throat.

But that didn’t matter, because everyone was cheering her on.

It felt great. Praise felt great, because she’d be damned if it weren’t alien to her.

Maybe that’s why she kept on taking shots. Maybe four or five, or more, she didn’t bother keeping track. She didn’t care, because people were loving it.

Oh, hey, when did she stand up? She couldn’t remember, things were kinda blurry right now.

“God, we need to invite you to more of these!” she heard someone exclaim. She let out a tumble of giggles.

“That sounds aight,” she replied, still giggling to herself as she stumbled around the circle, not entirely sure where she was going. All she knew was that her feet were heavy, and weren’t keeping balance all to well. And yet, that was the most humourous thing to her in this very moment. “Yeah, invi’e us more of’en, yeah?” She leaned on a random jock’s head and gave a lopsided grin to them. All their eyes lit up at once, and they expressed their agreement with the statement.

Okay, shitty start to the party, great results.

“Oh, hey, your hottie friends are looking for you.” She was directed over to the door, and she spotted the familiar figures of Heather and Heather. Sweet.

“Heyyy Heatherrr!” she called, stumbling over to them. Both of them turned their heads, and Chandler latched onto Mac immediately.

Oh, wait that was Duke. Never mind.

“Heather?” Duke questioned, arching a brow at her. Oh, she’d missed _so_ much.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

She let out a wave of laughter.

“Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’ I be?”

Duke and Mac glanced at each other, confused.

“You’re acting… off,” Mac replied, furrowing her brow. Chandler giggled as she let go of Duke in favour of grabbing Mac around her waist.

“Okay, so… maybe I’m a lil’ drunk,” she said, chuckling. “I had a bit of alcohol, but not tha’ much.”

Duke and Mac both widened their eyes. “Drunk?” Duke echoed, sounding shocked. Chandler rolled her eyes at her concern.

“Calm down, Heather, they were only lil’ glasses.” She giggled again, resting her head on Mac’s shoulder. “I’m probably only tipsy.”

Mac then turned to her with a serious expression. “Heather… was that vodka?”

She glanced up at her, grinned. “Yeah.”

Mac frowned. “Heather, how many glasses did you have?”

Chandler pouted as she tried to count them.

“Dunno. Six, maybe? Or somethin’ like that. Maybe more, I lost count.”

“ _Six!_ ” Mac exclaimed. Chandler widened her eyes a little.

“Hey, Heddie, is okay, they were tiny glasses! Like, Sunday Mass sized glasses.”

“Heather, that was _vodka_! It doesn’t matter how small they were!”

Chandler frowned at the brunette, confused. “But-”

“Vodka’s really strong, Heather!” Mac told her.

“Also, you are _way_ past tipsy right now,” Duke added. Chandler rolled her eyes.

“Oopsies,” she said, lifting her head off of Mac’s shoulder. “How’d you know this much abou’ alcohol anyway?” she asked her. Mac pursed her lips.

“Dad drinks. I picked up a lot.” She then turned around and grabbed her by the arms. “But never mind that, we need to keep an eye on you!”

“Pffft, I’m _fine_ , really.” She patted her on the head. Then she held Mac’s brown gaze for a little longer, and she giggled. “You look really pretty tonight, by the way,” she said grinning. “I mean, you’re pretty in general, but y’know.”

Mac pursed her lips. “Uh… thanks?” The corner of her mouth quirked up a little, and she grinned back, before turning to Duke, who was staring and them both with a blank expression. “So are you!” she added, falling back onto Duke, then swivelling around her until she was standing behind her, leaning her chin on her head. “Like, you’re really cute, and small, and all that.”

“Do I take this as a compliment?” Duke asked.

“Yeah, duh.” She patted her head. “Aw, your hair’s still a lil’ wet.”

Duke then moved away from her. “Okay, I think you better sober up.”

Chandler pouted sadly at her. “Wha’? No! I feel _great_!”

“Heather, if your parents see you like this, they’re gonna _kill_ you!” Duke told her, holding her gaze. Chandler considered her words for a moment, before Mac gave Duke a nudge with her elbow.

“Actually, sobering up isn’t _too_ difficult, so long as we have a shit tonne of water.”

Chandler grinned. “Grea’! I can stay fuckin’ _pissed_.”

“No! You’re off your head!” Duke grabbed her by the arms and stared up at her. “We need to sober you up _now_.” She gave her a slight tug on the sleeve, but Chandler pulled back, pouting.

“No! Is fine, I have everythin’ under control.” She gave her a grin, while Duke just folded her arms.

“You do _not_ , you’ve fucking lost it.”

“No, really, I’m fine, look!” She glanced over to the table she had just been sitting at. “Hey, boys!” she called in a sing-song voice. It turned a few of their heads. She simply gave a small wave, accompanied by a sweet smile. Some of them let out small chuckles and grinned, before turning to each other and whispering amongst themselves. Then she turned back to Heather, a smug grin on her face.

“See? Everythin’s fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Heather, you worry too much.”

Duke furrowed her brow. “No I don’t!"

“You are! Do, even,” she quickly corrected herself. Okay, so maybe the alcohol was getting to her a little. “Really, Heather, loosen up a little, would ya?” She rested an arm on her shoulder and gazed down at her. “Issa party. It’s supposed t’ be fun!” She then took hold of her wrist and began to drag her over to the dance floor, feeling an urge to throw herself in the midst of bright, flashy lights and loud music.

But she only took a few steps forward before she felt the hand slip out of her grip, and she stopped to look at her and frown.

“What’s wrong?” She stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out the reasons behind Duke’s frown. “Wait, are you still mad a’ me?” She pouted. “Heather, please don’ be mad, it wasn’ my fault!”

Duke frowned. “I mean, it wasn’t you who pushed me in the pool, but-”

“But what? I fixed it, didn’ I?” She tilted her head. “An’ you seem dry enough. What’s the problem?”

“The _problem_ is that you’re pissed, and I just want to go home!” she snapped. Chandler frowned.

“You can go if you want, then,” she replied, shrugging. “I’m havin’ fun, why can’t you?”

Duke narrowed her eyes. “Heather, I’m not leaving you to get busted by your parents!”

“I _won’t_!” she snapped. “I know what I’m doing! For once I actually feel on top of all this!” She gestured to the room around her, while Duke just gave her a dumbfounded look.

“On _top_ ?” she echoed. “When do you _not_ feel on top?”

Chandler paused.

 _What are you talking about? I never do._ She glanced down at her hands. _I’m always in a battle to get on top, and I just so happen to win so many of those battles._

She looked back up at Duke, and perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was something else, like being her friend for four years, but she could see a glint in her eye that she had seen before, but could never put a name on, or never dare to. Like the time she yelled at her for defending her in middle school, or any time she was able to yell at someone to fuck off, really.

 _You don’t,_ she thought. _You don’t win any of those battles. I do._

“Why do you…” She frowned. “Why do you always hate it when I…” She tried to find the right words, but goddammit, her brain was slow.

Duke’s brows knitted, and she edged a little closer.

“Why what?”

Chandler pursed her lips. “Just… whenever I’m like _this_.” She gestured to herself.

“Drunk?” Duke arched a brow, confused.

“No!” Chandler shook her head. “No, I mean…” She looked over to the table she had been sitting at - one she never thought she’d feel at ease with. Jocks were so hard to feel comfortable around. They always looked down on you like you were some sort of toy.

Well, maybe she still _was_ a toy, but at least she seemed to be one of those shiny, rare collectables.

“I don’t know what you…”

“So _what_ if you can’t be on top like me! That’s not _my_ fault! Why are you _blaming_ -”

Chandler slammed her mouth shut when she realised what was pouring out of her mouth. That realisation hit her when she saw a surprised, disheartened look in Duke’s eyes.

“I…” She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s _fine_ ,” Duke cut in with a shrug. “Again, sorry for _ruining_ your first party.”

There was something different about that apology. It may have been worded the same, but there was something more… bitter.

Chandler grimaced. “You didn’t-”

“Get as drunk as you want, I don’t care,” Duke grunted. “So long as you’re having you fun.”

With that, she turned around and began to walk towards the door. Chandler stumbled after her.

“Wait! Where are you goin’?” she called after her.

“Dunno. Just gonna stay out your way, I guess.”

Chandler stopped in her tracks, instead opting to watch her walk towards the edge of the room. She grimaced, and wondered if maybe she was in the right for wanting her to sober up. Not because she wasn’t having fun - she _was_ \- but because apparently, alcohol made her do dumb, impulsive shit.

She hardly noticed McNamara walk up to her side.

“Is it okay if I go hang with her?” she asked. “Just to make sure she’s feeling okay.”

Chandler blinked at her. “Oh. Yeah.”

Mac gave her a grateful smile, before turning to walk away. She had taken a few steps before swirling back towards her.

“Oh, and, uh… did you take straight shots?”

Chandler furrowed her brow, confused.

“What?”

“I mean, did you just down shots by themselves?”

“Um, yeah? Why?”

A light chuckle sounded from her. “You did it wrong.”

Chandler fluttered her lashes. “Wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to take salt, then shot, then lime."

“Oh...kay?” Chandler had never heard of that method before. Guess there was a lot to learn.

Mac patted her on the shoulder, still smiling sweetly at her. “It’s okay. I’m sure someone here can help you out with it.” She then looked back over towards Duke, who was now leaning against the wall with her arms folded, hiding in the shadows. The only thing all that recognizable was her small, curvy figure. “Have fun,” she said, before leaving her be.

Chandler watched her go for a while, before turning back towards the table. She pondered going back over to them, maybe to try out the “salt, shot, lime” method, but with how much her head was already buzzing, and with how impulsive the alcohol had already made her, she decided against it.

 _Maybe at the next party,_ she thought, as she made her way over to the dance floor.

Alone.

 

* * *

 

Duke had just finished up brushing her hair when she heard the dreaded beeping from outside. She let out a groan, before quickly scrambling to grab her green ribbon to tie her black hair into a loose ponytail. The usual style.

While tying a bow, the honking only persisted, to the point where it was fucking infuriating. She let out a hiss to herself, before storming out of her room and down the corridor, up the the window at the far wall, where she was able to see Heather’s Porsche parked outside. She flung open the window and yelled,

“Heather, I _heard_ you!”

The blaring stopped, and Heather rolled down the window and peered out, glancing up at her.

“Alright, geez, just making sure,” she responded, before giving one last brief _honk!_ purely to hit one of Duke’s nerves. She rolled her eyes and slammed the window shut again, before returning to her room. She took a quick glance in her mirror.

She hadn’t bothered picking out a stunning outfit. A white and blue striped shirt, a black skirt and a dark green cardigan. Maybe she needed more layers - it was cold outside, after all.

But the other part of her didn’t care. Because Heather had began to blare her horn again, and the sound was causing a horrid ringing in her ears and making a stupid headache grow even worse.

She considered just not going outside. She sat down on the bed, wondering if the better option would be to just ignore Heather until she went away. She cradled her head as she listened to the song being played by one, extremely annoying instrument.

And while lost in her thoughts, she heard footsteps. Wait, no, not footsteps. Pawsteps.

She peeked through a gap made between her fingers, and saw her dog trotting over to her. Ah, one of the two family members she could tolerate in this goddamn house.

“Hiya, ya big fuzzball,” she muttered, lazily outstretching a hand over to him as he sat in front of her with wide, puppy-like eyes. She ran her hand through his thick fluffy mane that was his fur, and sighed when a huge paw was placed on her knee. “Buddy, ya know I can’t take you for a walk.” She gave a slight squeeze to his cheeks. “Even if I could, I have plans.”

She knew he couldn’t understand jackshit of what she was saying, but regardless, he rested his massive head on her lap and gazed up at her, as if he were trying to look small. He looked about as small as a tibetan mastiff could in front of someone her height.

“You… miss me taking you for walks, huh?” she murmured, feeling her voice grow hoarse. She sighed, stroking him in an attempt to apologise. “I’m sorry, bud, I just never have the energy anymore.”

He let out a sad whine. One that almost convinced her that he understood every word.

She gazed at him, feeling something well up in her eye. Fuck off, now was not the time.

“I miss it too,” she murmured, before leaning down to give him a small peck on the head. He let out another whine. “I know what I’m doing, okay?” She told him, ruffling his head. “I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

Her gaze then drifted over to her mirror.

Her reflection didn’t seem to agree with her.

Then her brain tuned into Heather’s Horn FM.

“Look, I-” She gently pushed him away so that she could stand up. “I gotta go, okay?” She snatched her handbag up from her bed and hurried out the room. She knew her dog was following her. “I’m sorry, I’ll see you later.” She waited until they were both out the room, before she shut the door. She then rushed down the corridor and down the stairs, and cantered through her house and to the front door. Her dog had followed her the entire way.

“See you later,” she repeated, patting him on the head before shutting the door on him, though it was reluctant.

Then the breeze of the outside world hit, and she regretted not getting an extra layer. Even a coat would’ve been fine, but whatever, she was already half way down her pathway over to Heather’s car.

Without even thinking, she grabbed onto the backseat door, only the be interrupted by Heather poking her head out of the window.

“No, get in the front.”

Duke shot her an odd look.

“Why? That’s Heather’s seat.”

Heather’s expression was unreadable.

“Well she’s- It’s your birthday on Saturday, so up until then you get front seat privileges.”

Duke blinked at her, before giving a shrug. She wasn’t going to complain.

Though she found Heather stumbling over her words a little odd. But whatever.

She made her way around to the other side and hopped onto the seat, dropping her bag into the space in front of her. She gladly slammed the door, blocking out the cold draft of outside.

Alas, there was still a chill in the air.

“Could you shut the window?” she asked, pointing over to the open window next to Heather. She half expected her to not listen, or just go half way.

“Mhmm.” Heather rolled up the window all the way.

Oh. Must be her lucky day?

She watched Heather start up the car, not sparing her a second glance. Maybe she should find it normal, but she had hardly spoken a word to her ever since she got in the car. No comments about her outfit, none about last night… nothing.

Whatever. Maybe she was just tired or some shit.

The car began to move, and she rested her head against the window, feeling a chill shoot through her when her temple came into contact with the glass, which just so happened to be covered in condensation. Goddammit, she had just dried her hair.

Speaking of water…

“Shit,” she mumbled as she glanced into her bag.

“Hm?” Chandler asked.

“Do you have any water? I forgot to bring some since _someone_ was blasting their horn.” She glared at her, expecting a sharp retort back.

But that’s not what she got. Instead, she got a shrug.

“If I do, it’s in my bag, in the back seat. But I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

Duke let out a grunt, tearing her attention towards the window in an attempt to ignore the drying sensation in her mouth.

She watched the scenery fly by as they drove down her street, the silence in the car both defening and tranquil.

So why she decided to break it, she had no idea.

“Why did you need to bring me to buy me a birthday present, anyway?”

She gave a side glimpse to Heather, who had her eyes glued to the road.

“I thought it would be a good idea,” she replied, tone dry of emotion. A little too dry.

Duke arched a brow at her. “Don’t you know what to get me?”

Chandler’s mouth twitched.

“I guess not.”

She guessed? She never _guesses_ , she always _knows_.

Oh well. Maybe she really didn’t know what to get her. Maybe she didn’t know her well enough to know the answer to a detail like that.

 _Though, to be honest, I don’t know what I want either,_ she thought as she rested her head in her palm. “I’ll take whatever.”

“You might need to be more specific.”

Duke just gave a long sigh. “I don’t know what I want, Heather.”

A short pause.

“That’s why I’m taking you,” she said. “To make it easier.”

She watched someone walk by with a small cocker spaniel on a leash. “Oh, like a ‘know it when I see it’ thing?” she murmured tiredly.

“Yeah, that.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she mumbled, feeling her lids threaten to cover her eyes.

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

That response should’ve caught her attention, but she was too tired to think about it for longer than a few seconds. Instead she continued to gaze out the window, while her brain thought up whatever came to mind.

And something that came to mind caught her attention.

“Why did you go to my house first?” She looked over to Chandler, who, she was pretty sure, tensed up at the question.

“What do you mean?” she asked, sounding a little bit _too_ nonchalaunt.

“You always go to Heather’s house first,” she pointed out. “Why did you go to my house?”

Heather pursed her lips, giving her a brief side glimpse. “Am I not allowed to change routes?” she eventually replied. Duke lifted her head off of the window.

“Well, yeah, but if we’re going to the mall, wouldn’t it be easier to go to her house first?” She glanced outside, and sure enough, they were heading in the direction of McNamara’s house. “I’m closer to the town centre.”

Heather’s pursed lips rubbed together before she spoke.

“Heather overslept.”

Duke arched a brow. “ _I_ overslept,” she said. “I slept through three alarms.” _Lies. I was wide awake for all of them, but as if I was going to get up for any of them._ “I thought she was an early bird.”

“I don’t know!” Heather suddenly exclaimed, catching Duke off guard. Duke blinked at her as she recollected herself. “I-I mean, I don’t know why she slept in.”

Okay. _Now_ she’d caught Duke’s attention.

“You’re acting off,” she bluntly stated, staring at her. Heather just bit her lip, before shooting her a glare that Duke just couldn’t call all that affective.

“Heather, shut up.”

Duke’s brows knitted. She didn’t hear the usual venom in her voice, and it made her immune in turn. She shot a quick glance to the road ahead, and saw that, yes, this road _could_ lead to McNamara’s house… but it was going to be a long journey in doing so.

“Why are we going this way?”

“Change of pace,” Heather replied. Duke frowned.

“So, to make the pace slower? What gives?”

“Heather, sh-”

Duke cut her off when she watched a side road fly by.

“You just missed a turn! This road isn’t going to lead to Heather’s.”

“I know where I’m going,” Heather muttered, not sparing her a glance. Duke just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Are you sure about that? Because it seems like-”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Duke flinched at the sudden raise in volume. She saw that her grip on the wheel had tightened, and that she had finally turned to stare at her for as long as she could without risking crashing the car. Duke held her gaze for a while, before breaking off from her icy glare and facing the road ahead.

She couldn’t help but feel like something was off. She had expected a trip to the mall, not some odd guessing game that she clearly wasn’t allowed to play. What the fuck was going on?

“Is Heather not coming?” she asked, though she didn’t try to catch her eye this time.

Heather remained silent for a moment. Duke groaned.

“What’s up with you today? Just say yes or no.”

Heather gave a sigh. “No.”

Duke then furrowed a brow at the road ahead. “Then where the fuck are we going?” she asked. “The mall’s _that_ way.” She pointed behind her with her thumb. “Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?”

“Shut up Heather!”

“I’ll shut up when you tell me why we’re going the wrong way!” She glared at her, though she noticed how there was an odd glint in her eye. It wasn’t angry. Not really.

Nervous? Was she nervous? What the fuck? _What the fuck was happening?_

She stared outside again, watching as the amount of buildings around them shrank in number, replaced by trees and other wildlife. Fuck, if she didn’t know where she was right now, she’d call this the plot to every horror movie ever. Being driven out into the woods, where Heather would murder her and bury her body under some rusted leaves left over from the Fall. She probably should have saw this coming. Maybe Heather was getting rid of her from the group once and for all.

Okay, so an exaggeration. She knew where she was - these trees were just the depths of the local park, is all. Damn, when was the last time she came here? Must’ve been to give the dog a reward after going to the vets. It was convenient, after all, all those medical buildings were right next to the park.

“Why the hell are we at the park?” she questioned, gazing out into the trees, most of which were close to being stripped of their leaves. They almost looked grey. “Heather, seriously, what’s going on?” She whipped her head back over to her, desperate for answers. She remained silent. “Heather! I’m not about to pull a Heather-” wait, no, that sounded weird, “-I’m not about to pull an Emmy and play you’re weird-ass games!” God, how long has it been since she used that name?

“I’m not playing any game,” she muttered.

Heather didn’t believe her for a second.

It was clear that she wasn’t getting any answers out of her, so she turned her attention back to the scenery around her. They were still driving alongside the park, only now they were deeper in the woods. Where the hell could she be taking her? Not to those little shops that sold homemade ice cream sold by lonely old women. They hadn’t paid those a visit in years.

Shit, what else was out here other than that? Other than the vets, the pharmacy, the…

No.

 _No_.

“Heather,” she spoke up again, her voice low. Heather didn’t reply. She turned to face her. “Heather,” she repeated, this time louder. “Where are we going?”

The sentence was worded like a question, but it sounded like a demand.

But Heather still refused to speak. A pit of dread and fury began to build up in her chest, as well as her stomach. Or maybe that was the hunger. She couldn’t really tell, hunger was about as present as her heartbeat at this point.

“Heather, _please_ tell me we’re not going to where I think we’re going.”

Heather remained quiet for a moment, before saying,

“Where do you think we’re going?”

“Heather, look me in the goddamn eye and tell me you’re not taking me to the doctor.”

Heather kept her mouth shut, her eyes glued to the road ahead with a blank, emotionless stare.

And it was enough to strike fear in her.

“Heather!” she yelled, voice growing more desperate.

 _No, no I am_ not _going to the fucking doctor!_ She stared at the road ahead of them, seeing an upcoming turn that would inevitably lead them to a road facing those buildings. _You’re not taking me to a fucking doctor!_ She turned back to Heather, who still had her eyes on the road, though with how she sat motionless, with the exception of her hands stiffly tilting the wheel on occasion, she could tell just how _hard_ she was trying to not look at her. Why she refused, Duke didn’t know. She also didn’t care, because out of all people on this fucking planet, it was not going to be fucking _Heather Chandler_ to take her to the-

“Stop this fucking car, Heather!” she demanded, straightening herself up in her seat. Heather still didn’t look in her direction, which only added to the fury boiling in her veins. “ _Heather!_ ”

Heather visibly flinched at her raised volume, but that’s not the reaction Duke wanted. She wanted her to _listen_ -

She glanced at the road around them. Deserted. It was only them.

“I said, _stop this fucking car-!_ ”

She snatched the wheel, hands clamping around it as she pulled it in her direction, and finally Heather spoke. Actually, it was more like a scream.

“Heather, _no, STOP-!_ ”

Her voice was drowned out by the sound of screeching tires.

 

* * *

 

“Lunchtime poll?” Chandler echoed as the red clipboard was placed in her hands.

“Yes. You’d be perfect for it!” Peter exclaimed, giving her an enthusiastic smile. Chandler pouted at the board, then looked up at him with an arched brow.

“And why’s that?”

Peter looked a little sheepish as he gave a shrug. “You seem perfect,” he murmured, before sputtering an addition, “for this! Because, y’know, everyone seems to like you.”

Chandler tilted her head slightly. “You think?”

“Yeah, sorry, that was obvious, wasn’t it?” Peter chuckled nervously, fidgeting with his hands. Chandler blinked at him, before realising that he had misunderstood her question as rhetorical. She thought about correcting him, but decided that there would be no point, since she got an answer either way.

“Uhuh,” she replied instead, before scanning over the clipboard. “So, um, what exactly am I doing?”

“Oh, simple!” She suddenly felt a hand on her back, lightly nudging her forward. She obliged, and followed Peter’s lead, all the while trying to catch his gaze. For some odd reason, though, she couldn’t. He kept on averting his gaze as they walked down to the cafeteria, and honestly, it was getting kind of irritating. Not that she wasn’t used to a conversation with no eye contact - she, to this day, had to deal with McNamara struggling to withhold that very thing. It was more of the fact that he was supposed to be directing her, but was too nervous to even look at her. For fuck’s sake.

“All you have to do is go up to a group of people and ask them the question.” He tapped the page in front of her, specifically the title.

Aw, fuck, the title was underlined.

“R-right.” She stared at the page for a moment, trying to figure out some of the longer words that seemed to mesh together.

“You can do that, right?”

“Of course!” she snapped. Peter flinched at her sudden raise of volume, and she sighed, before returning to the title.

 _You are… readble? No… um, able! Able to be a… curtain…_ certain _, goddammit! Certain bodype… huh? No,_ body type _… what body type would you choose to have and… wait, what was the whole question again?_

_Shit._

“Heather?”

She snapped her head up suddenly, tearing her gaze away from the title. Fuck, why did it have to be in such small handwriting? And why was it _underlined_?

“Sorry, you seemed a little dazed,” Peter apologised. “Is there something wrong? This isn’t too daunting, is it?”

Chandler narrowed her eyes at him. “No, it is not _daunting_ .” She stared at the cafeteria before her, and sure, everyone was still older than her - she was still a freshman, after all - but few had come up to her to harass her. Hell, if anything, they really _did_ seem to like her. Everyone liked her. “Why would it be _daunting_?”

“No reason!” Peter quickly replied apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It’s… whatever.” She shrugged. “Anyway, what’s this question about?” She shoved the clipboard back into his hands, hoping he would read it out, because she sure as fuck couldn’t. Fuck, where was Heather when you needed her?

“Ah, well, you see…” Peter suddenly turned them both away from the student body to lean closer to her and lower his voice. Chandler eyed him curiously. “This is actually why we needed your help with this.”

“With what?”

“Well…” He glanced over his shoulder to glance at the students behind them. “You see, there’s something going around recently. The school asked to raise awareness for it, and we figured using lunchtime poll to gather some data on the subject would help.”

Chandler raised her brow. “Something going round?”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “There have been a lot of rumours going around about how some of the freshmen and sophomores are… um…” He brought up a hand and made an odd gesture with his finger, one that seemed to jerk in and out of his mouth. She just stared at him, dumbfounded, and he was quick to pick up on her confusion.

“There’s been a lot of talk about eating disorders recently,” he confessed. Chandler blinked at him.

“Eating disorders?” she echoed. He nodded.

“Yeah. Specifically bulimia.”

She stared at him blankly.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh.” He awkwardly grimaced. “Well, it’s basically when people will make themselves throw up their food.”

Chandler’s eyes widened both intrigued and shocked. “People are doing that?”

“Allegedly,” Peter said. “So we’re trying to promote more healthier diets.”

“...Right.” She glanced at the clipboard. “And I’m helping… why, exactly?”

“Like I said! People really like you.” He gestured to the students. “Even juniors and seniors can tolerate you.”

_I think you mean people are either scared of me like a spider, or they’re irritated by me like a fly._

“Also, we needed a female to ask this question.”

“Why?”

“We just figured it would be odd if I or Dennis went around asking girls about their weight and all,” he explained. “But you find it easy to talk to people, so we figured you were the best candidate.” He handed the clipboard back to her, and it was then that she realised that she _still_ didn’t know what the question said exactly.

“Okay, fair,” she said. “But I need you to walk me through it. I wouldn’t want to get inaccurate data.” She pushed the clipboard back towards him. He blinked at her.

“You want me to show you how to do it?”

Chandler panicked for a brief moment, wondering if that was a stupid thing to ask. But she was quick to shake it off, and instead focused on covering up the fact that she _couldn’t read the question_.

“Is there a problem with that?” she questioned. “What, is spending more time with me _that_ bad?” She pouted. “Didn’t you just say that _everyone_ liked me?”

Peter widened his eyes. “No, no there’s no problem!” He gingerly grinned at her and clung onto the clipboard. “Do you want me to just… walk around with you then?”

Chandler gave a satisfied grin and nodded. “Yeah. How about you write down the answers while I ask the question then, hmm?”

Peter gave a smile and nodded vigorously.

“Great.” She snapped her fingers and pointed towards the tables, where they began to saunter through the many different cliques. “Where to start…” Her gaze raked across the cafeteria, wondering whether she should risk striking up a conversation with the seniors, or to stick to freshmen and sophomores.

 _For now, maybe don’t go past sophomores,_ she decided. _For now._

“It depends who you think would have some good opinions,” Peter said, coming up from behind her. “They need to be pretty representative, so maybe pick a group with pretty influential voices?”

Chandler glanced at him, and he quickly added,

“Just a suggestion!”

Chandler just rolled her eyes at his jumpiness, before looking over the cafeteria again.

Eventually her eyes landed on a table - one filled with preppy, “well-liked” rich kids, who just so happened to be around her age, and more likely to listen to her.

Hmm.

“Them?” she suggested, pointing to the table. Peter widened his eyes a little.

“That’s a bit of a high order. Aren’t they… _really_ popular?”

Chandler arched a brow at him, and he seemed to shrink under her gaze, as if it had that amount of power.

“Yes,” she replied. “Influential, as you said.” She looked back over to them. “They’d be great.” _And just imagine being able to walk up to them and speak as if it were nothing._ The corner of her mouth picked up. _Then again, I’ve done exactly that before._

“Oh, uh… I guess so, yeah.”

“Then let’s go,” she said, leading him over to the table. She was about half way there, when she suddenly remembered that she had no idea what exactly it was that she was supposed to be asking, and there was no way in hell she was going to stand there and bumble like an idiot while trying to read the question. A flare of panic shot through her, and she almost stumbled over her own feet, before she quickly told herself to calm down.

“Mind reciting the question for me? I’ve forgotten it,” she said, acting as if it were no big deal.

“Oh, yeah! It’s, ‘You are able to pick a certain body type to be. Which body type would you pick, and why?’”

“Right, thanks.” Chandler made sure to recite those words in her head over and over, not wanting to forget it.

If she forgets the question, she’s done for.

Her brain was so busy replaying the words over and over again that she hardly noticed herself stop in front of the Country Kid’s table. She only just about managed to stop in her tracks without looking like an awkward mess.

All the heads turned towards her as soon as she paused, and suddenly her skin began to heat up.

 _I shouldn’t even be scared of them!_ she scolded herself. _I’m literally richer than them. And I’m just as liked by everyone._

The thought was enough to calm her a little.

“Hi, I’m Heather.”

A brunette arched a brow - one she’d known for years now, and had eventually figured out was named Courtney.

“...We know,” she replied, giving her an odd look. Suddenly the panic came back.

_Fuck!_

“I… uh…” She glanced over to Peter, who was standing not too far from her, pen at the ready. _Right. Just ask the question, and we’ll be over and done with._ She turned back to them, and took a deep breath.

“I’m doing lunchtime poll, and I need your input,” she began, forcing her tongue to not trip over her words. “It’s a serious issue,” she added, “so it’s important we get good answers. Sound good?”

It seems she had their attention, now, since a few nodded in response, and were gazing at her intently. She cleared her throat, and took a brief moment to recall the question. Thank God her brain had managed to store it well enough.

“Okay, so if you were able to choose a certain body type, which type would you pick and why?” She gazed around at the table for a moment, before quickly adding, “Uh- obviously that’s more aimed at the girls, so…” She turned to Courtney, who blinked at her.

“So… you mean, what would I want to look like?” Courtney asked. Chandler nodded.

“Yes.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before giving a shrug.

“I’m pretty fine with how I look, I’d say,” she said, glancing down at herself. “I mean, I’m pretty thin, right?” She glanced at her group, who all nodded.

“Yeah, of course!”

“You’re beautiful!”

Chandler listened to them all, then remembered the second half of the question.

“And why is that?”

It took her about five seconds to realise the implications of her words, after Courtney stared back at her with a disgruntled look. She cleared her throat again.

“As in… thin. Why is that pretty, is what I’m saying.”

Courtney stared at her for a moment, before slowly nodding.

“Right, uh…” She furrowed a brow as she tried to think up an answer.

“Well,” one of the guys suddenly spoke up. “Wouldn’t wanna be a lard-ass now, would we?”

The whole table collectively chuckled, before another guy said,

“I feel like this is aimed, Keith.”

He then gestured to a nearby table, to which Chandler couldn’t help but look over to.

It only had two people. One, a thin brunette with an awful taste in fashion, the other, the clear victim of the “lard-ass” comment.

Heather just shook her head, telling herself to stay on topic. “If we couldn’t stray from the subject, that would be great,” she said.

A little bit of alarm was visible on their faces, just for a second. Heather could only assume she’d accidentally made her voice sound more intimidating than she was meant to.

“Yeah, sure,” Courtney said, shifting in her seat. “Uh, anyone got any other answers?” She glanced around her table.

One girl raised her hand for a brief second before Heather’s eyes landed on her.

“I wish my hips were slightly wider.”

Heather slowly nodded. “And… why’s that?”

Everyone stared at her, curious, and she seemed to shrink under everyone’s gaze a little.

“Dunno… people just like wide hips, right? Am I making that up?”

“Ashley, we think you’re pretty just the way you are,” Courtney told her. Ashley grinned at her, as if her confidence had been turned back on with a flick of a switch,

“Yeah. You’re beautiful,” Heather replied dryly, while silently thinking to herself,

 _I’ve not forgotten that time you called Mac a retard, you fucking cunt._ She had to stop herself from laughing at the memory of Mac punching her to get revenge.

Only she didn’t stop herself, she let out a snort, and it turned some heads.

“What’s so funny?” Courtney questioned. Heather fluttered her lashes, then cleared her throat.

“Nothing! Nothing, thanks for the answers.” She tore her gaze away, back to Peter. “You got the answers?”

Peter gave her a thumbs up, and she turned back to the table.

“Thanks for your time,” she said.

“Oh… no problem,” Courtney replied, sounding uncertain. She offered a half-hearted smile, before leading Peter away from the table.

“Thanks so much, Heather!” Peter said as soon as she was walking alongside him. “This’ll be very useful for Dennis and I.”

“It was nothing, really,” Heather said, shrugging. “Anyway, do you need any more?”

“For now, no,” Peter replied. “Besides, I feel bad keeping you from your break to work with us, especially when it’s not your actual job.” He paused just next to the cafeteria doors to turn to her. “Though… from what I saw, I feel like you could do a pretty good job with this.” He tapped on the board. “You don’t have to, but… if you _want_ to, I can probably… well…”

Heather raised a brow and her hands fidgeted impatiently.

“If you’re going to ask me something, just say it.”

Peter gave a curt nod. “I was just going to say, if you ever wanted to do this again…” He held up the clipboard. “I’m sure we could arrange something.”

“As in… you want me to do lunchtime poll?”

He nodded again. “I think you’d be great at it! I mean, you _were_ , just then.”

Heather clicked her tongue as she thought about it for a moment.

On one hand, it sounded like a great idea. Her going around the whole school and asking questions would be a great way to let herself be known even more than she already was. She’d have some sort of duty here - one the school would depend on. It sounded perfect to keep her status in tact.

On the other hand, she wouldn’t be able to make Peter read out every question to her without it looking odd or suspicious.

“I… sure,” she replied. “On one condition.”

Peter raised his brows. “Condition?”

“Yeah,” Heather said. “I want to write the questions.”

His eyes widened a little. “Why?”

 _I can’t read._ “Why not?”

“Well… it would mainly be because you’re new to the job,” he slowly said, sounding on edge. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’d be great at it!” He awkwardly grimaced. “But I don’t think they’d let you until you’re a few months in on the job.”

Heather winced to herself.

“But it’s great that you’re interested, anyway! I’ll go tell Dennis,” he said, before turning around. “I’ll report back whatever he says!”

Uh oh.

She stepped forward, ready to call after him to say… _something_ , but nothing exited her mouth as he disappeared behind the double doors.

Oh no.

She bit her lip, trying to think up some sort of solution.

 _Just think!_ she thought to herself. _How do I usually read things without people suspecting anything?_

She stood still for a second, before slowly turning in the direction of her usual table.

_Heather._

She scurried over to the table, where Duke and Mac had been sitting all lunch. It seemed so empty with only two people on it - almost like she took up so much space.

She came up behind Duke, and was in full sight of Mac, who snapped her head up at the sight of her. A grin appeared on her face.

“Heather!” she exclaimed. She smiled back at her as she took a seat next to Duke. For a second, Mac looked a little disappointed - usually Chandler would sit next to her, not Duke.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted back, glimpsing at Duke, who was busy staring in a tiny mirror.

When Duke didn’t respond, Chandler leaned forward a little, trying to catch Duke’s eye, but alas, Duke’s gaze was far too stuck to her mirror to notice her presence. Growing a little frustrated - especially since she’d decided to sit next to her for once - she brought her hand to the small gap between Duke and her mirror, then snapped her fingers.

Finally Duke returned to reality, and her eyes landed on hers.

“Ah, she’s alive,” she announced, chuckling to herself. Duke blinked at her a few times, before rolling her eyes.

“Didn’t see you there,” she said dryly.

“I know,” Chandler replied, before slumping back in her seat beside her. “What did I miss?”

“Not much!” Mac replied. “How was your first lunchtime poll?”

“It was a one-time thing, Emmy,” Duke grunted, returning to adjusting her hair in her reflection. Chandler arched a brow at her, before giving an indignant huff.

“ _Actually_ , Mac’s right,” Chandler told her, catching her attention. Her hand paused in its place on her curly locks as she looked over to her with a curious look. “Turns out they want me to do it again at some point.”

She heard Mac give an excited gasp from across the table.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed, squirming in her seat. Chandler chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling. “What about you and the cheerleading tryouts?”

Mac’s gaze lit up even more than it had already. “They went great!” She beamed. “They said that if I work hard enough, I could really make a mark.”

Chandler let out a squeal.

“That’s amazing!” She suddenly leaped off of her seat and darted around the table to launch herself onto Mac to embrace her. “You’re gonna be great!”

Mac gave a sheepish chuckle from under her. “You think so?”

“I _know_ so,” Chandler said assertively, still grinning. Mac gave a smile back - one that she’d always find pleasure in seeing.

“What about you, Heather?” Mac suddenly asked, still holding onto the arm wrapped around her chest. Chandler looked over to Duke, who was peering at them both with a blank stare.

“What about me?”

“Anything exciting happening with you?” Mac clarified. Duke pursed her lips, before shaking her head slowly.

“No. Sorry to disappoint.”

Chandler looked down at Mac, who frowned. “It’s not a disappointment.”

“Right,” Duke grunted, before glancing back at her mirror. “Ugh… do you guys have any spot cream? I’m having a breakout.”

Mac shook her head. “No, sorry.”

“I do, but not with me,” Chandler said as she released Mac and returned to her seat next to Duke, who sighed.

“Duh, you haven’t gotten spots in fucking ages.”

“...Thanks?” It was a compliment, sure, but Chandler could pick up on an underlying bitterness that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be grateful for. “Um, I’ll give you it tomorrow, if you want.”

“‘Kay,” Duke grunted, before slamming her mirror shut with a _click!_

 _You could at least thank me,_ Chandler thought to herself, and considered saying out loud, had she not been in need of Duke’s help. By no means was she happy about that - she much preferred to do things herself. To _prove_ she could do things by herself - but fuck it, she didn’t really have much other choice.

“Say, since you have nothing going on,” Chandler began, shifting along the bench towards Duke. “You could always help me with lunchtime poll.”

Duke looked at her, eyes growing a little rounded, and held her gaze for a moment. To Chandler, it looked as if she were about to leap at the opportunity. Why wouldn’t she, anyway? It would just be the two of them doing a pretty admirable job-

“No.”

She paused, and frowned at how Duke’s gaze dropped back to her place (fuck, she needed to get some lunch for herself at some point too).

“No?” Chandler echoed in disbelief. “Why not?”

Duke still averted her gaze from her, looking at her hands as one of them batted at her left overs with a fork. Then she shrugged.

Chandler furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. That didn’t really help with anything. If anything, it only left her guessing.

 _Doesn’t she want to do it with me?_ she thought, and felt slight panic flush through her. _Why? What’s wrong with me?_ She continued to stare at Duke, who was oblivious to her doing so, by the looks of it. _Does she… not wanna spend time with me anymore?_ She hardly noticed herself chew on her lip. _Maybe she’s still mad about the party. I mean, that was months ago, and she told me she wasn’t mad, but she could’ve been lying._

“Hey, I’ll be right back, I just need a piss.” The sound of Mac’s voice almost made her jump, and she turned back to the brunette who was standing up from her seat.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Chandler asked. McNamara just stared back at her, blinking a few times, before shaking her head slowly.

“It’s only down the hallway,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Chandler watched her leave the table and make her way to the cafeteria doors, and didn’t turn her gaze way until she was out of sight.

Then she turned back to the girl sitting next to her.

“Have I done something wrong?” she suddenly asked Duke, who looked up at her with a confused expression.

“No? She doesn’t need your guidance and wisdom to go to the bathroom, y’know.”

“No, not _that_ ,” she muttered rolling her eyes. “I meant, why don’t you wanna do lunchtime poll with me?”

Duke frowned, and seemed to sink under her gaze.

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, but _why_?”

“Jesus, could you get off my dick?” she suddenly snapped. Chandler paused for a moment, before Duke let out a rough sigh. No apology though. Clearly she didn’t want to take it back.

“Listen, if you _must_ know,” Duke muttered, staring straight ahead rather than at Chandler. “I don’t need you to give me some sort of job just because you feel bad.”

Chandler stared at her in confusion.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I _mean_ , I don’t need your pity!” Duke’s head landed on her palm. “I get it. I’m not super well known in this school like you are. But I don’t need you to fix that _for_ me.”

Chandler arched a brow. “Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not why I was asking.”

“ _Wasn’t_ it?” Duke glimpsed at her, her tony dry and unconvinced.

“No! I was asking because…” _I need you to read for me? No, that sounds pathetic!_ “...I thought it would be nice to have a friend with me.”

Fuck. Perhaps that would’ve sounded more convincing if she hadn’t paused for the briefest of moments. And it seems Duke agreed with her, with how she was still unconvinced by her reasoning.

“Sure it is.”

Chandler let out a groan of frustration. “What, can I not invite my friend to do something nice with me?”

“You can, but lately you haven’t,” Duke mumbled. “Last week you cancelled our usual reading nights to go to a party at…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even remember his name.”

“Sean?”

“Yeah, him, whatever.”

“They had Jell-O shots, and they really wanted me to come!” Chandler protested. “It was just one time.”

“Oh really? Did you forget that last week was out _rearrangement_ for the _other_ time you cancelled? To go buy some outlandish makeup pallet or whatever-”

“It was on special offer!”

Duke groaned. “Look, what I’m _trying_ to say, is that you seem more concerned with your image than with your friends!” She glared at her. “You even bumped off hanging out with _Mac_ the other day to go join in egging some houses with some jocks and preps! _Mac!_ ” She repeated it, like some sort of punishment. It was enough to flood her body with a wave of shame, and for a second, her head drooped and she sadly frowned.

And then she reminded herself that she wasn’t about to look like she lost an argument - or _anything_ , for that matter - in front of Duke. Or anyone. So begone, expression that makes her look like a fucking pussy.

Instead, she decided to change the subject.

“Mac’s _my_ name for her,” she told her firmly.

Duke gave her a questionable look, before sighing.

“Sorry. It slipped out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chandler waved her hand dismissively. “It’s whatever.”

“Right,” Duke grunted. And after a brief moment of silence, Chandler was reminded of her main goal here.

“Really, though, I want you to do lunchtime poll with me.”

“Well, if it’s not out a pity, then why are you so intent about me doing it?”

“I already told you!”

Duke arched a brow at her. Chandler swallowed.

“The real reason.” Suddenly Duke actually seemed intrigued, with how she pushed her plate away from her and leaned on her knuckle, brow quirked up. Chandler just frowned at her, hating the way her gaze burned into her skull in such an accusing manner.

“There isn’t a real reason,” she muttered.

“Then I guess I don’t _need_ to join you,” she said, shrugging. Chandler clenched her hands into fists.

“I need you to read for me!” she blurted out, before clamping her mouth shut. God, that was loud. She whipped her head around, expecting to find a few heads turned, but thank God that everyone was too caught up in their conversations to have heard her.

“Ah.” Duke slowly nodded. Chandler wasn’t sure if her expression was smug or not, but if it _was_ , then she’d have a fucking problem.

“Don’t _ah_ me!” she snapped, folding her arms and shuffling away from her.

“It was a response,” Duke said. “Y’know, you could’ve just… told me that.”

Chandler grumbled into her hands. “No, it’s stupid.” She looked away from her, feeling herself begin to grow hot in embarrassment. “That I need you to read a fucking question for me.”

“Heather, it’s not stupid,” Duke said from behind her. “I’ve been helping you with reading for ages.”

“Exactly!” She scowled. “That’s what’s so stupid about it. You’d think I’d actually be good at reading by now.”

She dared to look over at Duke, who had tilted her head slightly as she gazed over to her.

“I mean, you’ve read some pretty high standard literature. You’re not exactly _bad_ at reading.”

“But I’m not good at it.”

Duke shrugged. “I’d say you are, for someone with dyslexia-”

“ _Shhhhh!_ ” she hushed her, slamming her hand over her mouth. “God, don’t announce it to the whole cafeteria!”

Duke arched a brow at her, then pulled her hand away. “I didn’t. No one’s listening.”

“They could’ve heard you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is this what this is about?”

Chandler blinked at her. “What do you-”

“You want me to read over lunchtime poll for you so you don’t have to tell anyone else that you’re dyslexic, don’t you?”

Chandler glowered at her.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“You really don’t need to hide it Heather-”

“Shut _up_ , Heather,” she said again, this time louder. Duke’s mouth fell shut as a response, to Chandler’s… relief?

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her shoulders slumping. Just as she did, Chandler caught movement from the corner of her eye. She turned around, and saw that Mac had returned after, an admittedly long journey, to the bathroom.

“God, that took ages,” Mac muttered as she sat back down. “The bathroom was packed! Mainly by some girls having some argument.”

“Argument?” Chandler asked.

“Yeah! They were all talking about diets and all, and somehow it got really heated?” She awkwardly grimaced, as if she were thinking back to it. “Then one of them mentioned how they hardly eat anything because they throw it up?” She shrugged. “Then they all started convincing her into throwing up to prove it. I have no idea, but it got pretty heated, so I just went to the gross toilets instead.

“What the fuck,” Duke said dryly.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a thing going around, according to Peter,” Chandler stated. Both Duke and Mac turned to her with questionable looks.

“People… throwing up?” Duke asked slowly.

“Apparently.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah it was… interesting to watch,” Mac added. “Looking forward to seeing it again if it’s going around?” She quirked up a brow at Chandler, who shrugged.

“From how Peter described it, it’s just a dumb trend.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’ll pass soon enough.”

“Phew,” Mac said with relief, allowing Chandler to return to the conversation she was having with Duke.

“Look, do you want to do lunchtime poll with me or not?” she whispered into her ear, her voice unintentionally harsh. Duke peered at her with a raised brow.

“Do you _need_ me to read those questions?” she eventually replied. Chandler’s eye twitched, knowing what she ought to say was what she _really_ didn’t want to say.

“...Yes.”

Duke slowly blinked at her. “You can’t get Emmy to do it?”

“She has cheerleading practice now!” she argued.

“So? It won’t always clash with lunchtime poll, will it?”

“It _might_!” she told her. “I’m not risking it Besides…” She eyed her up and down. “It’s not like you have anything going on. You might as well, right?”

Any hints of joy found in Duke’s expression evaporated as those words left her mouth. Chandler had to wonder what she might have said that could be interpreted as upsetting, but right now, it just wasn’t a priority. She was _not_ letting anyone outside of her circle know that she was dyslexic - God, imagine all the pitiful stares she’d get? And that would be the _better_ treatment.

Duke’s mouth twitched a few times, and her eyes flickered, like she were having a debate in her own head. Then she let out a sigh which sounded nothing but frustrated.

“ _Fine_ ,” she muttered, keeping her voice low. “If you so _desperately_ need my help, then whatever.”

Chandler celebrated this silently in her head as a small victory, though she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in her chest in hearing the bitterness in her tone.

“I don’t _desperately_ need your help-”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be _desperately_ asking for it,” Duke snapped back. Chandler just glowered at her.

“You don’t need to be a bitch about it,” she grumbled, shuffling away from her along the bench.

“I’m not,” Duke protested. “I’m just saying, you don’t need to-”

“Whatever, I need lunch,” she cut in, standing up. “I’m hungry.”

Without another word, Chandler marched off to grab a lunch tray, though she hardly noticed her own feet carrying her across the cafeteria, and was too busy focusing on Duke and what she had told her.

 _So what if I don’t want to tell anyone about my dyslexia?_ She almost forgot to remind herself to not scowl while she stood alone in the queue. _Honestly, she doesn’t know what it’s like!_ She blinked. _Wait, no, she_ does _, because I_ tell _her what it’s like all the time!_

“Hey, could you move along?” an annoyed grunt sounded from behind her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw an irritated looking junior gesturing for her to go forward. Chandler felt herself heat up with embarrassment, in realising she’d been holding the short line up by just _standing_ there.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m moving,” she muttered as she took a few steps forward. She could vaguely pick up a vexed whisper that said, _“Fucking freshmen…”_ but she forced herself to shake it off, not wanting to feel guilty about such trivial things, just like she always did.

Because here was the thing about this school. Show any form of weakness, and you become a target. It was just like middle school, only worse. And she’d say that she didn’t think that were possible, but that would be a lie. She’d been predicting this for a long time. She’d expressed it to Duke many times before.

So why Duke was acting surprised that she didn’t want to reveal her fucking learning disability was beyond her.

 _Fuck,_ she thought as she realised it was her turn to collect lunch. She scrambled to get a plate full of whatever slop they were giving out today, while simultaneously trying to hide her nervous jerky movements as she did so.

 _Honestly, though, does Heather_ want _me to fuck up?_ She could’ve groaned out loud at the thought. _God, why does she have to…_

A thought occurred to her, and she stopped in her tracks on the way back to her table.

 _Is… is that what she wants?_ She widened her eyes as she stared over to Duke, who was completely oblivious to her doing so. _Fuck, what if it is? Does she_ want _me to fail? Maybe to make herself feel better about having a shit year? Or something?_

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, legitimately considering the idea.

Then she rolled her eyes at herself, letting out a quiet scoff at herself as she continued walking back to her table.

_No, that’s ridiculous. She’s probably just having a bad day. Maybe she’s on her period._

She was just about to sit down and eat her lunch in peace when a thought hit her.

 _...That’s not right, Heather doesn’t even_ get _periods!_ She swallowed as she glanced over to her.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

Heather cradled her chest as she stared ahead. Everything was still, if not just a little tilted. The car was fine - thank God, this Porsche was her child - though two of the tires had landed in a tiny ditch on the edge of the road.

But that was the least of their worries. Right now, Heather was more interested in calming her rapid heartbeat and her shallow breaths, as well as her shaking hands. She knew Duke could feel her shaking - her hands were still glued to the wheel, with one of them on top of the hand that wasn’t holding her heart.

They sat in stunned silence for a while, up until Chandler whipped her gaze around to Duke to glower at her, furious.

“Heather, what the _fuck_ were you thinking!” she screamed, sounding more like a demand than a question. “You almost killed-!”

Before she could finish, Duke suddenly switched from frozen in place to unbuckling her seat belt, and swinging open the door. Chandler stared after her as she stumbled out of the car and began to strut off towards the woods, not sparing her a second glance, or even shutting the door behind her.

She only grew more angry.

“ _Ugh!_ ” she screeched, before unbuckling her own belt and opening the driver side door and slamming it shut. “The fuck is she thinking?” she hissed to herself as she marched around the car and over to the door that Duke hadn’t shut herself. “I’m just trying to help, and this is how she thanks me!” She slammed that door even harder. She could feel that her hands were still shaking, but whether it was from adrenaline or anger, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both.

She then turned to Duke, who had walked even deeper into the woods. She snarled as she began to march after her, cursing each time her heels got caught on a twig. At least they weren’t six inch.

“Heather!” she spat, picking up her pace as best as she could. Duke didn’t give any implication that she heard her, but Chandler knew she must have. The only sound accompanying them was a breeze weaving through the naked branches above. “Heather, stop!”

Duke didn’t stop. She only kept going, and Chandler cursed her for choosing to not wear heels. It gave her an advantage when climbing up a slope covered in shrubs. She had to stop in front of it, debating whether or not to continue following her, or maybe just stand there and scream her lungs out until she returns. The latter sounded like an awful idea - Duke was obviously not going to relent any time soon. Then again, she could always just leave her here and drive off. She was the one walking off into the woods, after all. Perhaps that’s what she wanted.

But something prevented her from doing that. Instead, something urged her to go forward, to just say _fuck it_ and to get her heels dirty.

God, staying on two feet all the way up was going to be a miracle.

“For fuck’s sake, Heather, slow down!” she called after her, grabbing onto a small trunk to hall herself up a few steps. “I can’t keep up in these heels!”

Duke was already at the top of the slope when she finally turned her head.

“That’s the point!” she fired back, before turning back around. Chandler swallowed the urge to yell in frustration, instead focusing on trying to get to the top of this damn slope.

“Fuck!” she yelped as her heel got caught on a tree root. She stumbled forward, almost toppling over, but luckily she stayed up on her feet. Just about.

 _Goddammit, Heather!_ She inhaled deeply, trying to control her anger.

“Heather, for fuck’s sake, get back here!” she snarled as she made it to the top of the slope, at last. Though, she dreaded looking down to see just how messy her heels would be now. “Where the hell are you even going?”

“Anywhere away from you,” she snapped, still marching away from her. Chandler grinded her teeth together, before picking up the pace, while also trying to be careful to not trip over stray tree roots and logs.

“Heather, I’m _trying to help_!”

It seems she finally found a way to make her stop. Thank God.

Duke froze in place for a moment, back still turned to her, cardigan blowing in the wind. Then she whipped her head around and pinned Chandler in place with an ivy-green gaze that seemed to slice through her skull.

“Help?” she echoed, before turning around to face her. “ _Help?_ ” she repeated again, this time louder. Chandler’s brows knitted as she took a step forward. “ _You’re_ trying to help _me_? Are you fucking serious?”

Chandler frowned. “Yes, that’s why I’m chasing you down in the middle of the fucking woods.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “Oh, my fucking hero.” Sarcasm oozed from her voice. Chandler just sneered.

“I don’t _have_ to be here, you know.”

Duke shrugged, as if completely disconnected from anything that was happening. “Good. I don’t want you here.”

“Fucking hell- _why are you being such a fucking bitch?_ ” Chandler began to march towards her, and Duke stepped backwards, still facing her with narrowed eyes.

“Gee, I don’t know, Heather, maybe it’s the fact that you _tricked_ me into going to the doctor? Just a hunch,” she jeered, crossing her arms over her chest as a stronger gust of wind hit them both.

Chandler just swallowed. “Maybe fucking consider _why_ I’m doing that?” she shot back. “Unless you’re completely fucking oblivious to what you’re doing to yourself.” _Kind of like me, but that’s not the point._

Duke just gave an indignant squawk. “ _Oh_ , I see, so this is _my_ fault?”

“It’s your fault we’re in the middle of the woods right now!” Chandler spat. “You nearly crashed my car! What the hell were you thinking?”

“What were _you_ thinking pulling that fucking stunt to begin with?” Duke hissed. “What were you even going to do if we got there? I sure as hell wasn’t going to get out the car! Were you gonna drag me there by the wrist?”

Chandler bit the inside of her cheek, preventing herself from admitting that she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I was _hoping_ you would’ve just come to your senses and-”

“Come to my _senses_ ?” Duke gaped at her. “I don’t need _you_ to tell me whether or not I’m at my senses!”

“You need _someone_ to tell you!”

Duke just scoffed, her green eyes rolling. “I don’t want that someone to be _you_ , is what I’m trying to say.”

Chandler felt her fingers twitch. “I don’t give a flying fuck about what you _want_ , Heather!” She stepped closer to her. “Because from the looks of it, it seems like you _want_ to let yourself waste away!”

Duke let out a screech of frustration, before turning away from her again and walking further into the woods. Chandler groaned in irritation, before continuing the chase, though it was becoming a much more reluctant action by the second.

“Heather, could you fucking stop?” she called after her.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Don’t act like such a child!”

“I’ll keep on acting like a child if it means you’ll go away!”

Chandler inhaled a shaky, angered breath, before letting her rage take full control over her volume.

“ _Why won’t you let me help you!_ ”

Duke stopped again, this time quicker to turn on her.

“When the hell of you _cared_ ?” she spat. “Where did any of this come from? Since when have you _bothered_ with me?”

Chandler could feel her blood boiling, as if years of being _rejected_ had suddenly returned to light a violent fire in her veins.

“You know what? I don’t fucking remember!” She clenched her fists. “I don’t _remember_ because I don’t know when the last time it was that you let me help with _anything_!”

Duke furrowed her brow, but her expression was too unclear for Chandler to know if she hit a mark with her at all.

“So why are you bothering now?” she eventually replied. “Did you think anything _changed_?”

“Wow, Heather, I don’t know! Maybe it’s because you really fucking need it right now!” She stepped towards her, and she didn’t move. “Maybe it’s because Veronica and Heather aren’t going to do shit, because you won’t let them!” _From what I can tell from one conversation._

“You don’t _get_ it, do you?” Duke snapped. “I don’t want _your_ help! I don’t want _you_ telling me what _I_ need to do! _I’m fine!_ ”

Chandler flinched when she raised her voice, enough to faintly echo through the trees. She stared at her for a moment, seeing something in her gaze. Her green irises were like liquid fire, burning into her skull in a way they had never managed to before.

She had no idea where her rage had come from.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice growing quieter than it had been before. “Why can’t you just let me help?”

Duke bit the inside of her cheek as she took a few steps backwards, until she was leaning against a tree. “With this, or with anything?” she muttered. “Not that it matters. The answer is the same.”

Chandler’s stared at her for a little longer, picking apart her expression, trying to figure out what was lying beneath.

And it hit her. It was what had _always_ been lying beneath.

“God, you’re really being this difficult over _this_?” She clenched her fist as she glowered at her. “Heather, just fucking bury this stupid need to one-up me and come back to the car!”

“Oh, _fuck off_!”

Chandler snarled. “ _Heather-_ ”

“No, really, _fuck off_!” She flung off the tree and clenched her fists into tight balls as she took a step towards her. “I don’t need you shoving your ego in my face!”

“Shut _up_ , Heath-!”

“ _NO!_ You shut up! Just _shut up_ !” she screamed, stealing Chandler’s ability to speak as she moved closer to her. She wasn’t even invading her personal space, and yet Chandler felt the need to move away as she glared right at her. “Fucking shut up, I don’t need to hear whatever you have to say to me!” Duke bit her lip, straightening herself up a little. “Whatever it is you’re going to say; _you’re not well, Heather! You need help, Heather! You’ve completely lost your shit, Heather!_ ” Her voice grew high pitched in an attempt to mock Chandler’s voice. “I don’t give a shit! Just save it, I don’t want to hear it from your fucking mouth!”

Chandler bit her bottom lip as she held her gaze, though somehow holding it felt as if she were straining her eyes. Almost as if it were too heavy to hold.

She opened her mouth, ready to fire back with a response, but she couldn’t find the right words to put into a sentence. Her eyes subconsciously dropped to the ground, staring at the dying leaves scattered around them.

“Because guess what?” Duke spoke again, making her snap her gaze back up. “I’m _fine_ . I’m completely…” She paused for a second. “I’m completely in control of this. Not you. _Me_.”

Chandler narrowed her eyes, clearly hearing the uncertainty in her voice.

“No you’re not,” she muttered. It sparked rage in Duke’s eyes.

“Yes I am!”

Chandler gritted her teeth as she stared at her, while a voice from last night echoed in her head.

_“I don’t want her to die.”_

“You’re not!” she repeated. “You’re going to fucking _die_!”

Duke rolled her eyes, as if she were being ridiculous. “Yeah, yeah, go on. Try and grasp at any strings to scare me into coming back with you.”

“I’m not _grasping at strings_ , Heather, you’re fucking dying!” She let out a harsh breath. “God, stop being so difficult for fuck’s sake! Just bury your goddamn pride and let me take you to the fucking doctor!”

Duke arched a brow at her. “Prideful, huh?” She scoffed, turning sideways to her.

“Yes, _prideful_!” She crushed the leaves under her heel, an angry crackling sound erupting from them. “You spend more time getting pissy over how I’m constantly outshining you than actually taking care of yourself!”

“Oh, _here_ we go!” Duke exclaimed, holding out her arms. “Because you’re _so_ fucking perfect, right? I must be _so_ jealous of how _perfect_ you really are! Because why wouldn’t I be? Because I’m like a match trying to outshine a forest fire, right? ”

Chandler groaned. “I never said-”

“No, no, go on! Tell me all about it!” She swirled her hand around in a sarcastic gesture for Chandler to continue. “Tell me how I’m killing myself, how this is all _my_ fault, how _I_ need to _grow up_!”

Chandler winced at that last one, but she made sure to not let it show in her stoic expression.

“And _sure_ ! Tell me how _jealous_ I am of you, and how I’m constantly whining about not being as _good_ as you!” she continued. “But that’ll be your own time that you’re wasting because I already _know_!”

Her voice broke on the last word. Chandler couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her voice do such a thing.

“Heather, just _listen_ , I’m not trying to-”

“No, I _won’t_ listen,” Duke snapped. “I doubt you have much to say.”

Chandler dug her nails into her palms. “I’m just trying to _help_ ,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Duke whipped her head back towards her and snarled.

“And _I_ said that I don’t _want_ your help!” Her voice raised again. “You’re not some sort of angel I need to lean on, you know! I don’t care if that’s what everyone thinks you are. You’re not that to me.”

Chandler could feel herself shaking as she spat out her words.

“God, just admit you’re jealous of me and move the fuck on!” she barked. “You don’t have to keep blaming _me_ for all of this, all because you’re upset that I actually have some goddamn control in my life and you _don’t_!”

And during the silence that fell upon them, Chandler had to wonder what exactly it was that she was referring to. What was ‘this’? What was ‘it’? The easy answer would be Heather’s bulimia, but she just couldn’t bring herself to say that that was all that was behind her words.

But she couldn’t bring herself to figure out what ‘it’ was, because she was too lost in the glare that she and Duke were sharing with one another from across the small clearing, the only thing daring to block their vision being their loose strands of hair blowing in front of their eyes.

Then Duke let out a dry, bemused huff. The corner of her mouth quirked up in the most bitter way it could, and her eyes dropped to the ground.

“You want me to admit it?” she asked, her voice soft. “Fine. I’m jealous. I’m jealous of you.”

Something flooded through Chandler in hearing those words. She decided she’d label the emotion satisfaction for now. It had to be satisfaction. She’d been waiting for her to admit this for _years_.

She clicked her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest, gazing down at Heather with intrigue.

Duke just stared back at her blankly, before speaking again.

“You must think I’m jealous of how _perfect_ you are,” she spat out bitterly. “How you’re on top of everything. How in _control_ you are.” She shrugged, letting her shoulders slump. “Maybe I am. I don’t know.”

Chandler arched a brow.

“But… no, it’s not that.” She picked up her gaze to meet her, and a chill shot through Chandler’s spine when she saw how cold it was. “No, what I’m _jealous_ of is how perfect everyone _thinks_ you are.” Her voice grew a little louder. “I’m jealous of how everyone treats you, and how _blind_ they all are to you.” She stopped to sniff. “I’m jealous of how everyone _thinks_ you’re this perfect person and how everyone is so _fucking_ oblivious to how they’re all holding you up and keeping you on top.”

The corners of Chandler’s mouth began to droop while Duke’s twitched with unease.

“Yeah, I’m jealous of how everyone keeps you on top of everything and has tricked themselves into thinking it was all you.” She gestured towards her, before her hand dropped to her side in a defeated manner. “Maybe it’s because they don’t realise, because you soak their praise up as if it’s an objective fact.”

Something began to claw at Chandler’s throat. She wished that it was some sort of response to the words being thrown at her like knives, but it wasn’t.

“Or maybe it’s because everyone _fears_ you like a demon, but worships you like an _angel_ !” She chewed on her lip and the corners of her eyes curled. “Yeah, I’m jealous of that too, because how the fuck does someone do that?” Her voice was growing louder with each word, so there was no point in Chandler trying to cover her ears to block her out. “But can you blame me for being jealous of the fact that you’re fucking _worshipped_ by everyone? Can you blame me for being jealous of how fucking perfect you _seem_ to be and how fucking perfect you’re _not_?”

Chandler felt like she should’ve been mad at that, but she couldn’t find any words that could match the emotion. Instead, she just quietly said,

“Heather-”

“And _yeah_! I’m _jealous_ of how you can float above everything without a fucking _care_ in the world and be _untouchable_ and be _perfect_ and not have to deal with _anything_ that comes in your way!” she continued, her voice growing louder, yet more hoarse. “And I’m jealous of how you can avoid all the _shit_ that _should_ come your way because of all the _shit_ you do!” She sniffed again, and this time she paused to shakily inhale. Chandler furrowed her brow. “Because you just avoid all consequences that come your way - you’re too good to face them, they’re not worth your fucking time because you’re just so _goddamn_ _perfect_ , how could you possibly bother with facing any consequences? _How!_ ”

Chandler bit her lip to stop anything spilling out that she’d regret.

“So _yes_ I’m _jealous_ of you and how you’re a fucking _mess_ and how you just cover it all up with crazy hot clothes and sex and whatever the fuck else you can do that I _can’t_ , I’m jealous of _all of it_ !” She dragged her fingers through her hair and gritted her teeth. “Are you _happy_ ? Are you _fucking happy_ ? Do I need to _humiliate_ myself in front of you for any longer?”

A hand shot up to her mouth to cover it, just for a moment, and her eyes darted around in a panicked manner. “That’s what you wanted, right?” Her voice grew more pained, as if she were trying to hold it together with a flimsy string. “You want me to stay down so you can remain on top, right?” She let out a sad huff. “I know you can’t do it yourself. You just need everyone to keep their heads down, so when you stay looking up you seem way taller.” She gazed up at her, and Chandler saw her eyes glisten in the dull light seeping through the clouds. “But I know you’re not. And that’s what I’m jealous of.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, as if they couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Because I can’t do that. I can’t keep everyone below me.” She fell silent for a while, turning around to face away from Chandler. Then she spoke again, her voice hoarse, shaking and on the verge of falling apart.

“I can’t pretend I have control like you do.”

Then she stopped speaking, her back facing Chandler, her black hair in the way of any view that she may have had of her face from where she was standing. Her shoulders were tense, her back was hunched over and her arms were wrapped around herself.

But it was getting harder and harder to see when Chandler’s vision was growing clouded. Shapes began to blue and ripple, and that clawing in her throat was tearing at her skin to climb up even higher, wanting to escape threw her lips.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and something wet began to roll down her cheek. She swallowed, then quickly swiped at it with the back of her hand.

None of that. None of this. Not now.

Not in front of Duke.

“Heather,” she began, cursing her voice for cracking. She cleared her throat quickly, before continuing. “Heather, just come back to the car with me,” she said, her voice low. Her vision was still murky as she took a step towards her.

Duke turned her head towards her, though she had one hand cupping her face, so she still couldn’t see her.

“No.”

Chandler pursed her lips into a tight line, and she roughly rubbed her palm over her eyes. “Do you want something in return? I can give you it.” She bit down on her lip as she breathed in heavily. “If… if you come back to the car with me, you can be red next time we play croquet. Does that sound good?”

Duke paused, before letting out a laugh that could only be described as drained of any amusement.

“Like that’ll fix anything, Heather,” she muttered. “I’m so fucking done with you acting as if you can run from everything.” Her voice was quivering. “You’re not going to run from this. You’re not going to run from _me_ .” She finally turned around, and Chandler could clearly see her cheeks growing wet. She grimaced. “I’m not going to let you pretend that we’re _fine_ and that you can just _fix_ me and everything’s gonna be _fine_ because it’s all not gonna be _fine_ it’s all shit, it’s shit, it’s a mess, we’re both in a mess but you act like everything’s fine and it’s not I’m _NOT FINE_!”

As she screeched those words out, sobs began to tumble out of her mouth after them. Duke tried to catch them with her hand and clamped it over her mouth, though Chandler could still hear muffled cries. Some loose strands of black hair that she’d accidentally torn out of her ponytail flopped over her face, assisting her hands in covering her expression.

And Chandler could only watch, and keep wiping at her eyes and keep swallowing down any sounds that would mimic Duke’s wails.

“Maybe I should,” she then heard her mumble, hand still over her mouth. Chandler’s brow knitted.

“Huh?”

“Maybe I _should_ die,” Duke said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Maybe then I can be the consequences you’re so desperate to run from, because duh, that would make you a fuckin’ human being, wouldn’t it?” She roughly ran her hand over her eyes as she sniveled. “Maybe I can change that by dying. Maybe then I can get you to see all of the _shit_ I have to deal with!” Her green eyes were glistening with tears as they poured down her cheeks. “ _Maybe_ I can get you to act like a _fucking_ human being!”

Chandler’s lip was quivering, and she had to clamp her teeth down on it to make it still.

“I have,” she muttered.

Duke furrowed her brow at her. “What?”

“I…” She swallowed. _I don’t want to fucking think about it._ “I have,” she said again, louder.

Duke held her gaze for a moment.

“ _Really?_ ” she scoffed sadly. “What, did someone spit in your face after being insulted?”

“ _No!_ ” she screeched. Duke froze for a second while Chandler glared at her, breath shaking as her thoughts began to race. Fuck. “No, it was…” _Something I don’t want you to know._ “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Duke remained silent for a moment, before letting out a light huff.

“Of course it was.” She swiped at her eye with her thumb, catching another tear.

Chandler clenched her jaw, before shaking her head, as well as the thought away.

“Come back to the car, Heather,” she murmured, her voice growing weak. “You’re wrong. I don’t want you to die. Just _come back_.”

She wasn’t sure if Duke had bothered to listen. Maybe she hadn’t even heard her, she was too busy sniveling and blinking tears out of eyes and drying her face from her tears with her dark green woolen sleeve.

“Well, then don’t worry about it,” Duke then muttered. “I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. It’s not worth dying just to get back at you.” Had her voice not been quivering, she could’ve sounded amused. “Especially since I think the first thing you’d do at my funeral is count how many people came.”

“Heather, come back to the car,” she snapped, not wanting to hear any more, all the while the back of her throat began to hurt when straining her voice to stay steady. “I don’t care whether or not you’re coming back for me. Come back for Mac, or for Veronica, or for _you_ , I don’t give a shit!” She held out a hand towards her. Duke just stared at it. “Mac’s fucking terrified for you, Heather! She broke down last night!” Her mind flashed back to that time, and she swallowed, not wanting to think about her cries. “Just come back, for fuck’s sake! Don’t just stand here and let yourself rot because you hate me, just _come back_!”

Duke just gazed at her, her eyes foggy and dazed, and little hiccups escaping her lips. For a moment, she almost looked guilty, as if the idea of Mac being so upset over this hurt her as much as it did herself.

Then she just squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“I don’t hate you.”

It took Chandler a moment to figure out what she was referring to, and she wanted to hit herself in the face.

_Wow. I really said that, huh._

“Hell,” Duke spoke up again, “I don’t even blame you for half the shit I go through. It’s everyone around you, how everyone holds you up to such high regard.” She gazed at the floor, kicking a dead leaf off of her shoe. “And how I wish I could be that. None of that’s your fault.” She let out a sob again, before picking her head up. “It’s the fact that you’re just so _okay_ with it!” She paused for a second, resting her knuckle on her forehead as she shakily inhaled. “People love you, but I _know_ you. I know why you do half the shit you do, okay?” She bit her lip as another whimper escaped her mouth. “I know you get scared for Heather, maybe even for yourself, so you just gotta keep throwing punches at everyone to get them to fuck off.” Her eyes flickered up to glare at her. “But you keep hitting me in the process! I don’t know if it’s by accident or if you _enjoy_ it or what, but it doesn’t fucking matter, because it _hurts_ , Heather!” she yelled, her voice breaking horribly.

Chandler just held her gaze, continuously blinking tears out of her eyes, holding onto a shred of hope that Duke couldn’t see them through her own. But with how her brows raised ever so slightly, and how she blinked when Chandler sniffled, she found herself forced to let go of that last little shred.

“I…” Chandler began to say… something, but it was only after the first word did she realise she had no idea what that something was, so she was left standing still, mouth hanging open as she searched for her words.

Duke just remained in her place, arms wrapped around herself protectively as she tried to control her uneven breathing.

“I get scared for you too,” she finally murmured, her voice hoarse. She dared to peer at Duke, who just stared back at her, eyes a little wide, if not for a moment.

Then she just shook her head.

“Act like it.”

That was the last thing she said, before turning away from her again, and beginning to saunter even further into the woods, her movements stiff. This time, Chandler didn’t follow her. She just watched her go, left with a feeling of emptiness.

She didn’t know why. For years, she had waited for Duke to finally admit she was jealous. For years, she had wanted her to apologise for it.

And she got it. She got what she wanted.

She should be smug. She should be happy that she got what she wanted. She should be over the fucking moon.

So why in the ever-living fuck was she crying?

She let out a rough sigh as she wiped her eyes with her red sleeve vigorously, sniffing again and again and swallowing her need to let out any sobs. She didn’t want to cry. She wasn’t going to keep crying.

Just go back to the car, she told herself as she turned around and began stalking off. That’s what Heather wants, anyway. It’s not worth chasing after her. Do what you always do and just leave her. Give her what she wants, just go back, just let her walk home, she brought it on herself, just _go back to the-_

_Thump!_

The trudging of leaves behind her suddenly stopped, and so did Chandler. She furrowed her brow, listening out for any more footsteps that weren’t hers.

Silence.

“Heather?”

She turned around, wondering if she’d find Duke coming back towards her. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she was finally going to follow her back to the car, and she could just forget any of this bullshit happened. Everything would be just _fine_ -

She didn’t see anything. Duke was nowhere to be found.

Odd.

She glanced around, searching for some sign of her, but the only thing that caught her eye was swaying branches.

 _Maybe she’s just behind a tree,_ she thought to herself as she took a few side steps, enough to change her point of view.

Nothing. No small figure could be found.

“Heather?” she called out nervously, taking a few steps forward. “Heather…”

Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for _some_ sign of her, but still she found nothing. She got so desperate as to whip her head towards any movement she could find, only to be tricked by thin tree trunks and branches. At one point, her eyes even dropped to the floor when a few leaves bouncing across the ground caught her eye. She followed them on their journey for a little while, beginning to feel hopeless.

And that was when she spotted her.

The leaves got caught on her arm, the wool catching the stem before they could go any further.  Chandler just stared at them for a moment, feeling as though her feet were stuck to the ground, up until she let her eyes trail up Heather’s body, aiming to catch her eye. All she found was black hair covering any expression she may have had, and probably mingling with the dirt on the ground. She could hardly tell, though, she was pretty much being buried by leaves by the second.

She looked lifeless lying there.

It was that thought that made Chandler finally find her voice.

“ _Heather!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe you’ve kept it a secret for this long,” Duke commented as they stepped into the cafeteria, red clipboard in Chandler’s hands. Chandler gave a huff.

“I can. Getting you to do this was a genius idea on my behalf.” She gave a smug grin. She saw Duke roll her eyes, but chose to ignore it in favour of asking, “Could you recite the question for me? I’ve forgotten it.”

“Already?” She gave a huff of laughter. “Your attention span is worse than Emmy’s sometimes, I swear to God.”

Chandler scowled at her. “It isn’t _that_ bad!”

Duke arched a brow. “How many times have I had to go over text extracts in English with you because you were lost in a daydream.”

Chandler shrugged. “Is it my fault that those text extracts are boring as all hell? No, it isn’t.”

Duke scoffed. “Sounds like _someone_ is making excuses.”

Chandler pouted.

“Sounds like _someone_ is getting irritated that she needs to read the same paragraph for me over and over again.”

“Yeah, you’re completely right.”

Chandler gave an indignant squawk, and Duke just cackled.

“Listen, all I’m glad about is that it’s really helping you pull through English.” She lightly elbowed her. “At this rate, you could get to an advanced class.”

Chandler’s heart warmed at the idea, though if she were to be perfectly honest, she just couldn’t see that happening. Sure, she had two and a half years left of high school, but as if she could get to the top class while being dyslexic.

“Could? Don’t be so hypothetical, geez,” she responded.

She wasn’t about to let Heather catch onto her doubt. Any time she did, it ended in what felt like Heather trying to snap her. Why she did such a thing, she had no idea why, but she hated it. For a while she’d come

up with the theory that she was just trying to pull her back down to her level, for reasons unknown to her. Maybe it was to feel better about herself? She’d had a suspicion of her jealousy ever since that party in freshman year… or maybe it had gone even further back. She always had been pissy about her getting involved with her issues, after all. Maybe she was just desperate to prove herself.

_I mean, I do the same thing, I just happen to be better than her._

“Heather.”

The sound of her name snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked over to Duke.

“Yeah?”

Duke let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, _third and last time_ ,” she said as she cleared her throat. Chandler winced in realising she’d missed her reciting the question due to being caught up in her own thoughts, and forced her brain to tune into Duke’s voice, and no one else’s.

“You’re able to partake in a well-known tournament that will definitely get your name out there, however you can only ever partake in it once. You’re able to refuse the offer and work to playing in similar tournaments, and continue to partake in them, but it isn’t a hundred percent certain that it will lead to the same amount of success as the first option. Do you refuse or take the offer?”

Chandler silently repeated to herself everything that Duke said, mouthing each word a second after they were spoken. She repeated the question several times to herself, up until she was able to remember what to say.

“Okay, good,” she said. “Let’s go.” She hardly even thought about what direction she was walking in as she began to make her way down the usual route she took, though Duke grabbing her arm caught her attention.

“We’re not asking this to the country kids, remember?” Duke said. “We’re asking it to the jocks and the cheerleaders.” She gestured to the two vastly different tables sitting in another part of the cafeteria, and Chandler groaned to herself.

“Goddammit,” she muttered as she turned to walk over to them, though she took her sweet time in doing so. “Why couldn’t we have gotten a different question this week?”

Duke shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Chandler scoffed. “I’m not a beggar. They begged _me_ to do lunchtime poll, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all very thankful for your sacrifices, Heather.” She huffed. “But enough of that. I’ve been meaning to ask, how’d the party go on Friday?” She glimpsed at her. “Y’know, since it was so important you had to abandon a music session in favour.”

The sudden mention of last Friday made Chandler’s breathing hitch. That night had been on her mind ever since - she didn’t need to be reminded again.

“I, uh-” She glanced forward, and saw they were already closing on the first table - jocks. Always a pleasure. “I’ll tell you later, we have a job to do.” She internally sighed with relief. She really didn’t want to discuss that right now.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted, stopping at the head of their table. The sophomores looked up at her, curious, but seemingly intrigued. Hopefully she could keep their attention for more than thirty seconds. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a question for you.”

“Is it about how much pussy I get a week?” one of them said. The rest of laughed. Chandler and Duke just shared an unamused look.

“No, because the answer wouldn’t be worth recording since it would be so small,” Chandler retorted. Everyone on the table laughed, apart from the victim of the joke. That was fine.

“What it _is_ about is this,” she then said, before repeating the question to the best of her ability. Granted, with knowing what it actually said, as well as having an excuse to read it out loud, it was much more easier for her eyes to follow along.

“Alright, give me your answers,” she commanded, pen at the ready in her hand. In the short time it took for any of them to speak, she tapped her fingers over the pen impatiently. “Come on, I don’t like being kept waiting.”

She noticed one of them lean into another’s ear and whisper something she couldn’t hear, though she couldn’t help but grow curious when the other laughed at whatever was said.

“Something funny?” she questioned, arching a brow and straightening herself up to seem taller. A knee-jerk reaction whenever she spoke to people who she saw as threats. The two of them looked back over to her and laughed again.

“Obviously,” she heard Duke mutter from next to her. “Hey, could you get back on task? We don’t have all day.”

“Ha. Sorry, we were just talking about somethin’.”

Chandler blinked at them. “Is it relevant?”

They both shook their heads. “Nah,” one of them said. “Just something funny we heard about you earlier.”

Chandler froze in her place.

“Heard what?” Duke asked, to which Chandler immediately elbowed her. “Ow!” She frowned and rubbed where she was hit, but Chandler just shushed her.

“Don’t encourage this,” she hissed, only loud enough for Duke to hear. She only looked more puzzled.

“Encourage what?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” one of the jocks said. “Heather number one has been getting _arooouuuund_.” Of course he had to draw out the last word, maybe to make it sting for a little longer.

Duke just looked confused, searching Chandler for some sort of answer. More than anything, Chandler wanted to say, _“You don’t want to know.”_ But even that was enough to reveal, and confirm, what they were talking about.

“If you must know, Heather Two,” a jock much closer to where they were standing spoke, leaning forward. Chandler swallowed, thinking he was going to spill everything to her friend, as well as the rest of the cafeteria, and it would be bye-bye to any dignity she might have had.

“...You should ask Ram,” he eventually finished, before the table erupted with laughter. Somehow the indirect comment was even worse. Maybe it was down to Chandler feeling sucked into the situation due to being in on the joke.

Duke, however, wasn’t. Instead, she was left to put two and two together. Chandler could see the cogs turning in her brain, with how her eyes darted back and forth. She could see the very moment it clicked, since her eyes widened, and she looked up at her, looking dumbfounded. Chandler tried to keep her expression as neutral, but she could feel her lip twitched as anxiety continued to shoot through her body, and she could tell she was failing miserably.

Then, after what seemed like a painful eternity, Duke turned back to the table and let out a laugh.

“God, none of you are funny!” she declared, sneering at them. “As if she’d stoop to his level.”

“I dunno about that. Ram’s at least a solid nine,” one of them pointed out, only to get stared at from the entire table. “Uh… not in a gay way, though.”

Duke just gave a huff. “She has higher standards than Ram.”

Chandler just swallowed. It was all she could do - she felt like she’d lost the ability to speak, and now she was depending on Duke like a lost puppy. God, she felt pathetic right now.

“Maybe she should let Ram know that,” the jock shot back. “Or don’t. He might get a mixed message.”

Duke furrowed her brow at him, before turning back to Chandler, asking a question she did want to answer.

_“You didn’t do that, did you?”_

She didn’t need to say it out loud for Chandler to hear it.

“No, no, she wouldn’t do that with…” Duke trailed off as she held Chandler’s gaze, and her poison ivy stare just continued to burn into her skull.

Finally she opened her mouth to say something - _anything_ \- but she guessed that the universe was against her making this situation any better, since she heard the _last_ voice she wanted to hear right now.

“Hey hey, hot-stuff.” She could’ve groaned at the sound of his voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She felt a hand land on her shoulder, and she had to restrain from slapping it away. Instead, she slipped out of the grip before it got too tight.

“Ram,” she grunted, stepping away to stand next to Duke, who was eyeing the taller boy suspiciously.

“Hey, Ram! Congrats on getting such a hot snatch,” one of the jocks exclaimed, holding out a hand for him to collide fists with. He did so with a cocky laugh.

“Nah, congratulate _her_ on getting such a hot _first_ ,” Ram replied, grinning at Chandler deviously. Chandler just stared back at him, swallowing the last of her saliva and leaving her mouth dry as her skin began to heat up as she felt eyes _burn_ into her. She couldn’t help but glance around, and fear that every pair of eyes that happened to look her way were looking at the scene before them.

But it didn’t matter if anyone had took notice or not - Heather Duke’s stare was glued to her, and that was enough to make her want to melt into the floor. It didn’t help when the table in front of her all began mumbling amongst themselves. The words were inaudible, but they all morphed together into one impression of her, and that impression was _whore_.

“You’re lying,” Duke then said, glaring at Ram, who raised his brow at her.

“Lying about what? About how she likes it rough?” He cackled again, the sound echoed by the table. Chandler’s mind began to race, trying to think of what the _hell_ to do.

“Oh, and let’s not forget that she’s _loud_ ,” Ram added. As the laughter continued, a pit of shame and disgust began to build up in her stomach, and she wanted to hurl.

 _Do something._ Say _something-!_

“Now _that_ part _is_ a lie,” she suddenly blurted out. Her attention was caught, and her grip on her clipboard tightened as she tried to compose herself.

“Heather,” Duke harshly whispered. “What the hell are you-”

“In fact, if I remember correctly, _Ram_ ,” she continued, staring directly at him. “ _You’re_ the one who likes to _scream_.”

Him and the others remained silent for a moment. Then a few chuckles erupted. Ones that weren’t aimed at her.

“Probably for the best - _one_ of us had to make a noise,” she carried on, studying her nails casually as she spoke to cover up her rapid heart rate. “Not my fault you just weren’t up to my standards.” She gave a scoff and waved her hand dismissively, and more laughter could be heard. Again, it wasn’t aimed at her, to her satisfaction. “Here’s a tip for your next hookup, Ram,” she cooed, batting her lashes. “It’s a good idea to actually know what female anatomy looks like before you touch it for the first time,” she sneered. “Maybe you can actually do something right.”

“ _Shiiiiiiit!_ ” one of the jocks called, cackling. The rest of them joined in on the laughter, leaving Ram frozen in place under Chandler’s glare.

Chandler felt as if she should’ve been proud of avoiding a bullet that penetrated (ha-ha) so many other girls. And in some respects, she was.

But on the other hand…

She slowly turned her head back to Duke, who was just staring at her, dumbfounded. Hell, she looked _ashamed_ of her. They held each other’s gaze for a while, everything around them zoning out, up until Duke just let out a frustrated grunt and turned around to stalk off. Chandler watched her go, not moving for a moment, up until it registered in her mind that Heather was _leaving_.

“Shit, Heather-” she mumbled, before scampering after her. All conversations with Ram and the jocks were forgotten as she was led out of the cafeteria, down the hallway and to the bathroom. A common place of the Heathers’ sanctuary, it seemed.

“Heather!” Chandler called as she caught the door that was about to slam in her face. When she walked in, she spotted a couple of other sophomores standing in front of the mirrors and looking at them curiously. Chandler just glared back at them in the most intimidating way she could muster, which seemed to be a good enough hint for them to leave. She waited until the door behind her closed, before turning back towards Duke, who was staring at the floor, arms tightly crossed.

“Heather,” Chandler began again. “I… um…” It was only now did she realise she had no idea what she wanted to say. Shit.

“You _what_ ?” Duke snapped, glaring up at her. “You come to tell me the details of your little night out with _Ram_?”

Chandler scrunched up her nose. “No! I just-”

“How _could_ you?” Duke spat. “You and I - and Emmy - have hated that asshole and his linebacker for _years_ ! And now you go ahead and _sleep_ with hi-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Chandler shushed her, slamming her hand over her mouth. “Don’t fucking announce it!”

Duke just glared at her, before throwing her hand off. “You seemed perfectly _fine_ with announcing it back there!”

“Yeah, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell them it was a lie.”

“That clearly wasn’t working.” She shrugged. “I had to do _something_.”

“I have a _swell_ idea,” Duke chimed. “Maybe don’t fucking sleep with-”

“I didn’t _sleep_ with him!” Chandler cut in. “It was just a quickie.”

Duke gave her a puzzled look, and Chandler sighed.

“It was just a… y’know…” She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers. “Hand. Handjob.”

Duke blinked at her hand, before making a hurling noise.

“I’m going to fucking _barf_ -”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion!” Chandler snapped. “I can do whatever the fuck I want with my body.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Duke grumbled. “I’m _saying_ , when one of those things is fucking _Ram Sweeney_ , of all people, it kinda feels like complete and utter shit for me, and probably even more so for Emmy!” 

“Don’t bring her into this!”

Duke scoffed. “And why not? Oh wait,” she gave a faux smile of understanding. “I know why. It’s because she doesn’t know, right?”

Chandler bit her lip.

“You don’t want her to know, right? Because you _know_ that’s gonna fucking sting her, don’t you?” She leered at her with a stare that Chandler could only describe as poisonous. “Because her knowing you slept with our- with _her_ bully - and him being your _first_ , is going to fucking _hurt_ , isn’t it?”

“Shut up!”

“You know I’m right.”

“I said, _shut up, Heather!_ ”

Duke obeyed, her mouth zipping closed as Chandler sneered at her.

“You don’t know why I did it, Heather,” she hissed. “As if you’d understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“Understand how this goddamn school _works_!” She tilted her chin upwards slightly. “You know just as well as I do that it’s impossible to get through this place unscaved. There’s no use trying to crawl on the floor when you’re just gonna get stepped on, okay?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“Look, there’s the worms,” she gestured to the floor, “and the eagles,” she pointed upwards, “and you have to choose which one you are.”

“And this relates to you fucking Ram how-”

“But to be an eagle, you have to learn to fly. Problem is, eagles are dicks, Heather.”

“Did you just think up this convoluted metaphor now or did you write this down at some poi-”

“So if you want to fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. That’s what I did. It’s what I’ll continue to do to stay up _there_ ,” she said, pointing upwards again.

Duke just stared at her for a moment.

“...You got it the wrong way around. If you want to fly with the eagles-” she raised a finger, “you gotta learn how to _fuck_.” She shoved the finger in a ring she made with her other finger and thumb. “At least, by your standards.”

Chandler just gave a disgusted huff. “Like you’d know, Heather,” she grunted. “As if you have any idea what my standards are.”

Duke furrowed her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ that you don’t _know_ ,” she pressed a finger on her chest. “Because you don’t live up to them.”

Duke widened her eyes at her, before batting her hand away.

“Don’t drag _me_ down with you! Just because you’re so insec-”

“I’ve only ever dragged you _up_ !” Chandler fired back. “And all you have to do about it is _complain_!”

Duke gave a pout. “Wow, I’m _so sorry_ that I haven’t kissed your aerobicized ass.” She let out a sorrowful gasp. “Or maybe I’m sorry that I don’t need you babying me like you baby Heather.”

Chandler widened her eyes as rage filled her blood, making it boil.

“I do _not_ baby Mac!” she spat, her volume catching Duke off-guard.

“You kind of do,” Duke retorted, taking a step back from her. “So I expected better from you when it came to choosing to fuck Ram or not.” She shrugged. “I guess not.”

Chandler just stood in front of her, in stunned silence, hardly noticing the door behind her opening for some other students. Duke clearly did, however, as she let her shoulders relax to look more casual, as to not hint at any possible argument to any other students.

After a while of holding each other’s glares, Duke simply began to saunter away, towards the door. Chandler’s eyes followed her, like a predator leering at its prey.

“Heather’s going to find out,” Duke murmured as she placed a hand on the door. “One way or another.”

The words struck panic in Chandler.

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking telling her.”

Duke’s gaze darkened.

“It’s me, you, or literally anyone else.” She shrugged in a way that could only be described as apathetic. “There’s no getting out of this one like you do everything else. This time you actually have to make a choice instead of, y’know.” She fluttered her hand back and forth. “Flying away from your problems with the eagles or… whatever.”

With that, Chandler was left in the bathroom, still cradling the empty clipboard.

Left to make a choice of her own.

 

* * *

 

Chandler stood over Duke’s limp body, feeling frozen in place.

She’d only turned away for a few seconds. Just a few seconds. How had Heather ended up on the ground in just a few seconds?

“Heather?” She nudged her with the tip of her foot, hoping that she would stir.

She didn’t.

“Heather, get up,” she told her, though her voice was not as nearly as powerful as she wanted it to be. “You’re gonna get dirt all over you.”

She still didn’t move.

“Heather…” she said again, this time quieter. “Heather, really, get up.” She nudged her with her foot again, this time slightly moving her.

She flopped back into place.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

“Heather, _really_ !” She raised her voice a little as she crouched down, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t funny! Get up!” She shook her a little. When she got no response, she shook her again, this time a little more vigorously. “ _Get up!_ ” She repeated, shaking her again.

Nothing.

She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip as she stared at her limp body.

She looked so fucking lifeless.

Fuck… fuck… what if she _was_?

“No, no no no… Heather, wake up.” Chandler could feel herself tremble as she found her other shoulder and rolled her over onto her back. She could see her face now - some of her hair had flopped out of its way, revealing closed eyes, slightly parted lips, red liquid trickling down from her forehead…

What the _fuck_.

Adrenaline rushed through her body as the sight of blood dripping from a small wound above her… right? No, left… no, _right_ eye. Her eyes darted around, her vision close to growing blurry, up until they landed on a large tree root near her head, tinted in a bright red that was growing darker by the second.

 _Okay… so the wound isn’t what caused her to fall,_ she tried to reason in her buzzed up mind. _She must’ve hit her head on it when she fell._

“Heather?” She leaned forward a little bit, paying no heed to how her voice cracked. “I swear to God, if I have to perform CPR on you…”

She swallowed as she cupped her hand on the back of Duke’s neck, lifting her up from the ground and leaning over to hover her ear just above her mouth.

Shallow, faint breaths skimmed it. She was still breathing. She was just unconscious.

Thank _fuck_.

Chandler stilled for a moment, eyes following another drop of blood run down her temple.

Except… _not_ thank fuck.

Heather was _unconscious._

“Heather!” she suddenly yelled. “Wake the hell up!” She tried shaking her again, as if that would do anything. “For fuck’s sake!”

Her eyes returned to the cut on her head.

 _Okay, okay, deal with that first,_ she told herself. _We’re in the woods… it’s filthy… it could get infected._

She chewed on her lip as she looked around, trying to think up something to do.

“I can’t do _shit_!” she spat out loud. “Fuck!”

She looked down at herself, searching for some sort of answer that she knew wasn’t there. She had to stop the red liquid dripping from her forehead, but with what? What could she…

Her blazer was red. Maybe it wouldn’t show up on it? Red on red. Hell, even if it did, it wasn’t her usual blazer, just a random jacket she’d thrown on herself on the way out…

Letting out an exasperated groan, she tucked her hand inside her sleeve, curled it up into a fist and gripped the ends of the sleeve, before placing it on the cut. She could’ve gagged at the idea of Heather’s blood getting on her hand, but she also didn’t want her to look like a total fucking mess.

Also, gagging didn’t sound like a good idea right now. Not when she was still holding back the pain at the back of her throat, one that kept worsening as time continued to fly by.

Still chewing on her lip, Chandler gazed down at her. She was still unmoving.

“Heather… you’re gonna have to wake up at some point,” she whimpered. It hadn’t meant to be a whimper. It was supposed to be a command. And order for Heather to wake the _hell_ up.

“Doesn’t… doesn’t really matter whether it sounds like a command or not,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure to whom. Duke couldn’t hear her. No one else was around. It was just her. “Because you just… see through it all, don’t you?” Her voice was hoarse. Almost a whisper. “Even when you don’t act like you do… you still do.”

She tapped her fingers on her thigh frantically as she continued to stare at her. She let out a groan, though she couldn’t tell what emotion she’d manifested the sound from.

“It’s annoying as all hell, y’know,” she continued, “hell, it’s fucking insufferable.” She swallowed. “I think you know that, though.”

She then pulled Duke’s head onto her lap so that she wouldn’t have to to keep holding it above the ground, and in doing so, noticed that her sleeve’s colour hadn’t been able to hide the blood splodge on it. Chandler grimaced.

“Actually, I _know_ you know that,” she muttered as she brushed some black strands blowing over Duke’s face to the side. “You do it all on purpose, right?” She sniffed. “You’re always trying to get through to me, trying to crack me like some sort of code.” She could hear her voice quiver, and she wondered if she should stop talking to hide it.

But fuck it, because Heather couldn’t hear her. No one could.

“I fucking hate it. You know that right?” She rolled her eyes at herself. “What am I saying? Of course you know that. Like you care.” She gazed at her for a moment, her her vision began to cloud. She cursed under her breath as she tightly blinked, clearing her sight up for a moment, before it began to grow murky yet again. She felt drops begin to roll down her cheeks, and tried to wipe them away with one hand, though they were soon followed by even more. “It’s why I can’t fucking stand it when you speak sometimes… always being able to figure out why I’m doing the shit I do and all…” She chewed on her lip as she shakily exhaled. “I fucking hate it.”

She cursed herself for letting out a sob, and held her breath to keep any more from escaping.

“God, I wish you’d just stop.” She wasn’t staring at anything in particular as tears continued to fill up in her sockets. “It’s as if everything that I do to try and not look so pathetic, you still see me as pathetic.”

She bit the inside of her cheek as she hiccuped. “That’s not even the part that _bothers_ me because I _know_ that already!” she spat. “It’s just that I’m so _scared_ that you’ll let everyone else know that. Because I _know_ you wish you were me… or…” She could’ve scolded herself for letting out the timid whimper that she did. “Or at least, where I am, and… wish that…”

_Wish that everyone could treat you like some sort of perfect deity when you’re actually just a fucking mess of a human being trying to put all of the pieces together to look at least somewhat appealing?_

“Yeah, that…” She tightened her grip on something, and she realised that, at some point, she’d placed a hand on Duke’s wrist. “And I just… I never know if you’re gonna try and… I don’t know, get rid of me? Just to take my place or something…” At least she could still feel her pulse. “I don’t… I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. You told me already. You told me everything.” God, her cheeks felt like a pair of waterfalls right now. “I thought that I wanted to hear all of it. I thought…” She hiccuped again. “Thought I’d feel better about myself, knowing you were just jealous of me this whole time.”

She absent mindedly began to run her thumb up and down her hand.

“But I don’t. I knew you were jealous, but I thought you were jealous of…” She paused for a moment, before shrugging. “Dunno. What everyone else’s jealous of, I guess.” Her thumb made a journey over her knuckle, and grazed over hard skin. Blinking some tears away, she looked down at Duke’s hand in confusion, and saw she’d brushed her thumb over a trail of calluses. For a second she wondered where the hell they had come from. Maybe she’d punched a wall? Or something?

 _No, no…_ It suddenly clicked. _No, that’s her left hand. That’s the hand she uses to…_ She swallowed.

“Fuck…” Her hand grasped Duke’s, and she squeezed it. “Well, _now_ I know,” she croaked. “I did this to you. This is…” Her voice grew more hoarse. “Is my fault. It’s all my fault.”

She frustratedly rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her palm, already sick of the tears dripping off her jawline.

“I do treat you like shit, sometimes, don’t I?” she murmured, staring down at her. “Or, a lot, I guess. It’s just… I’m…” She licked her lips. “I’m scared. Of you. I’m scared of you. And I know you can see it. I know you know I’m scared of being stepped on, being at the bottom of the food chain and having no control and all. I was scared you’d be able to push me to the bottom, and I just… I didn’t want to let you do that.”

She felt dazed for a moment - almost disconnected from her surroundings, when the slightest of movements from Duke caught her eye. An odd mixture of relief and fear flooded through her for a second, though it was quick to vanish when she saw that she was still very clearly unconscious - the thing that had moved was her hair. Suddenly it seemed looser, like it wasn’t tied up as per usual.

It was then that she noticed that the green ribbon that was usually tied in her hair was no longer in its usual place, and it didn’t take her long to spot the emerald coloured ribbon being carried away by the wind. Chandler gasped and leaned forward, ready to grab it, but it was already far out of her reach, and she wasn’t about to stand up and chase after a hair accessory while leaving Duke on the ground.

“Fuck…” she grunted, slumping back into place. At this point, she’d given up trying to wipe the tears from her eyes, and just accepted she’d have to gaze at Duke through watery eyes. “Fuck, you were right about me.”

She sniffed again, while her mind raced about the words that had been pouring out of her mouth. Half of them she couldn’t even remember thinking up. Maybe they were always there. Always ready to slip away from her tongue, desperate to be heard.

Only, she wasn’t being heard. Duke couldn’t hear her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“I wonder,” she mused out loud. “If you could hear me, you’d believe anything I was saying?” Her mouth twitched. “Maybe you’d just call me out on my bullshit, like you always do, because why the fuck wouldn’t you?” She let out another sob. “I know why you do it now. Thanks for the harsh truth, you fucking bitch.” She let out a sad huff of laughter, as if she were trying to convince herself that this situation was better than it actually was. “You just… wanted control in your life, and I was taking that away. I let the school take that away. I-I didn’t know what I was doing, but, Heather…”

She swallowed when she heard her voice grow more hoarse.

“Heather, if that’s how you feel all the time, then I… I get it. I get how you feel, I mean.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as her mind began to wander to places she’d come to master shutting out. Well, apparently she wasn’t a master at it. “I know how that feels, Heather… losing all control. I’ve been through it and… it hurt like hell.”

She became aware of herself shaking as her breath became more shallow. She took that as a sign to stop her train of thought from arriving at whatever destination it was headed, but how to do that, she wasn’t sure. She could feel her fingers curl around the green fabric of Duke’s cardigan, and when she stared down at her, she couldn’t help but feel a great pit of guilt begin to swallow her up. And it was then when Chandler realised she had a choice.

She could run away from all of this. Pretend none of it ever happened, and make Duke swear she never mentions a word of it.

Or she could…

Pick her up off her lap and wrap her arms around her, let her head rest on her shoulder as she begins to bawl into the crook of her neck. She gripped her tightly, not risking her slipping out of her grip, because fuck, the thought of letting her go again was painful enough. Though her wails were muffled by the turquoise and white shirt Duke wore, they were still loud and all she could hear, other than the winds that just kept growing stronger.

“I never wanted this, Heather,” she cried. “But it doesn’t matter, b-because it’s what happened anyway.”

She lifted her head up, and saw she left a noticeable mascara stain on Duke’s neck.

“I won’t run away from this,” she declared, trying to gain control over her shaking voice again. “Just to prove to you I can be better, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’ll… I’ll fix this.”

Just as those words left her mouth, Chandler felt something drip onto her nose. She knew it couldn’t be her tears - it came from elsewhere.

Then she got her answer as she heard drops of water begin to fall onto the leaves around her, rustling them, while rain also began to soak her and Duke’s hair. She scowled and looked up to the sky, which had grown even darker than it had been before.

“Oh, _fuck off!_ ” she spat. “And my family wonders why I think there’s no God!”

She flipped off the sky as her attention returned to Duke. Some black strands were growing wet and sticking to her face. Chandler pushed them away, and when her thumb touched her cheek, she could’ve shivered, it was so cold.

“God, you’re gonna catch a fever out here,” Chandler muttered, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “You’ll have to wake up and come back to the car if you don’t wanna catch fuckin’ frostbite.”

Her hand remained cupping her cheek, and it was only growing colder. Chandler furrowed her brow as she gazed at her, wondering what to do.

“Well… since it already has your blood on it…” she grumbled as she lay her back down on her lap, before slipping her arms out of her red jacket. Her shoulders were exposed, and immediately caught a cold chill, but whatever. She picked Duke back up and wrapped the jacket around her, letting it loosely hang of her shoulders.

Seeing the girl in red didn’t seem so daunting like she thought it might have. No, it seemed… comforting. Like an old memory was returning to her, reminding her that it was real. They were real.

They had a relationship that wasn’t so strained _somewhere_ , it was just take a lot of digging to find it.

She held Duke close to her chest as the rain pour grew more violent, soaking them both quicker than before. She grew lost in thought again, only this time she was in the present, not the past.

Duke might not wake up for a long time. They were going to both be stuck out here in the rain until she got back on her feet.

Unless…

Chandler bit her lip as she looked back over her shoulder, down the slope and over to the direction of her car. It wasn’t a long walk, not really. But it would be if…

“Fuck it,” she muttered. “I got us into this mess.”

She let out a grunt as she hooked her arm under Duke’s legs and upper back, before awkwardly standing up on her two feet. For a moment she thought she’d fall over - her feet were cold and numb and she was holding Duke up in her arms. Sure, she’d lifted Veronica up before, but that was always brief. She was deadass about to carry her best friend/rival back to her car. In the rain. In heels.

“Whatever… I had this coming.” She tightened her grip on Duke as she turned around, ready to make the journey back to the car. Before taking her first step, she looked back down at Duke. Her head flopped over her arm, and she shifted it up so that she could support her neck.

“You’d probably laugh at me if you saw this,” she grunted, though there was a hint of humour in her voice. “Probably say that this is what I deserve, and… you’re right.”

She grimaced when she got no reply, even though she expected nothing less. It was just a harsh reminder that this wasn’t over yet.

A lot of work would have to be done. Preferably with a conscious Heather Duke.

“I’m getting you out of this,” she said in a self-assuring manner. “It’s my mess too, and I’m dragging you out of it.”

She took a few timid steps forward, all the while she made sure to pull Duke close to her.

“But it’s my fault you in that mess, and I’m…”

She swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Heather.”

 

* * *

 

“So it’s… minus four plus minus the square route of B and…” Chandler tapped her pen frantically as she muttered under her breath, pausing to think up what the rest of the sum was. “No… no, it’s…” She glanced back at her notes, and groaned when she realised her mistake. “Minus _B_ plus minus the square route of-”

A tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts, and she whipped her head around to see Mac standing over her.

“Oh, hey, Mac,” she greeted her, feeling relieved to have an excuse to tear her attention away from her work. “You doing okay?”

She expected Mac to take a seat somewhere around the table, but instead she remained standing where she was.

“Can I talk to you?” she murmured.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Somewhere with less people.” She gestured to the other students sitting around study hall, and Chandler just shrugged and nodded. She quickly shoved her books and pens into her bag, before standing up and following Mac through the exit.

“Something up?” Chandler asked as she was led to a more secluded area of the school - a dimly lit area which was rarely cleaned.

Mac paused in front of her, and at first, didn’t lift her eyes to meet her own. Instead she let her (now) blonde bangs flop over one side of her face as she looked away. Eventually, however, she looked up with a darkened gaze, and it told Chandler that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Concern suddenly began to grow inside her, and she took a step forward. “Did something happen?”

Mac furrowed her brow.

“So I’ve heard.”

Chandler blinked at her, wondering what she could possibly be referring to.

“So… what did you hear?”

Mac pursed her lips into a tight line as she took a deep breath. “Just some things involving you.”

 _Involving me?_ Chandler echoed in her mind. _I mean, I’m sure there are plenty of things involving me, but nothing importa-_

_Fuck._

Dread suddenly clenched around her heart as she put two and two together, and almost immediately after did she try and calm herself down.

 _No, no, it won’t be…_ that. _That was, what, two months ago?_ She reminded herself to not let out a nervous huff of laughter as she tried to soothe her panicked thoughts. _It would have died down by now, right? There are plenty of other things for people to gossip abou-_

“A lot of things involve me, Mac,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, dismissing it with a hand gesture. “Whatever it is, it’s probably nothi-”

“Did you fuck Ram?”

_Shit!_

“Ha...ha… what?” she stammered, forcing her lips to remained curled into a smile. “Did I hear that right? Me? Ram? _Pfffft_. Nooooo…”

As she continued her tangent, she found the courage to lock eyes with Mac, who looked anything but convinced. Her hazel eyes stared back at her with a blank gaze, one that seemed… disappointed?

_Oh dear._

“I… um…” She fidgeted with her hands as her eyes darted around the room, searching for something that could sound truthful. “Yeah, no, it’s complete bullshit.” She she shrugged. “Who’d spread such a rumour? That’s just _ridiculous_ -”

“Heather told me!”

Chandler felt her heart stop for a second.

“She _what_?” She gaped at the blonde, and for a moment, Mac looked startled. Even if she said anything, though, it wouldn’t matter. Chandler was too busy focusing on the anger beginning to cloud her brain.

“Um, to be _fair_ ,” the one voice she didn’t want to hear right now suddenly sounded from behind her, and she flinched as she whipped her head around to see Duke slipping out from behind the corner. “I didn’t tell her, I just _confirmed_ it.”

“Same thing!” McNamara exclaimed, but Chandler could hardly register her voice due to the frustration building up in her veins as she glared at the petite girl standing a few feet away from her.

“You _told_ her?” she growled, swinging her whole body around to face her. “ _Why?_ ” Duke remained still as she stepped in her direction.

“Like I said! She was going to find out at _some_ point!” she shrugged. “She came to me about it. I wasn’t going to lie to her.”

Chandler felt her eye twitch. “You did _not_ have to tell her!” she snapped. “You could’ve just let all of this die! You could’ve-”

“And let you just _get away with it?_ No way! You don’t get to avoid this shit! You’re nothing special, you have to face consequences like the rest of us-!”

“This isn’t about _you_!” Chandler cut in. “If I wanted to deal with this, I’d do it myself!”

Duke just gave a disbelieving scoff. “As if you would.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I kind of do.” She shrugged. “It’s easy to tell with how you act around everyone these days.” She raised her brows at her. “Y’know, with all the… flying with birds or whatever it was.”

“That’s not what I…” Chandler trailed off, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say that might save her ass in this situation. “I didn’t mean…”

Duke leaned forward a little, widening her eyes to show some sort of false intrigue.

“You didn’t mean _what_?” She batted her lashes at her. “Didn’t mean to hurt your friend?” Her expression morphed into a scowl. “Because you did.”

Chandler snarled. “She wouldn’t be hurt if you didn’t tell her,” she mumbled, keeping her volume low. Maybe Mac wouldn’t hear her that way.

“Or maybe she just would’ve eventually figured out that you and I lied to her to cover _your_ ass.” She raised her chin a little, as if an attempt to seem taller than her, which she sure she knew was damn near impossible without the assistance of heels. She could’ve laughed, but she refrained. “Unlike you, I’m not so _obsessed_ with my image that I’d fake it ‘til I make it.”

Chandler just gaped at her, eyes moving up and down her figure. To this day it was still jarring to see her without any red in sight, only green. But God, she’d been able to pick up on every instance of imitation over the past few years.

“Oh, _I’m_ obsessed with my image?” she snorted. “ _I’m_ not the one who stuffed my-”

It was only when the words came that close to leaving her tongue did she realise what it was that she was saying. Words with far too much power, and it was power she was on the verge of abusing.

But it seems she didn’t need to finish her sentence to know that she’d made a mark. She could tell by how Duke stared back at her, looking almost _amazed_ that she’d dared to go there.

“Heather…”

It wasn’t Duke who spoke. Instead, it was the timid, quivering voice of Mac from behind her that snapped her back into reality. Swallowing the best she could with a dry mouth, she slowly turned around to meet watery hazel eyes staring back at her.

“I…” Chandler began, licking her lips as she chewed on them. She only just noticed her own fingers frantically tapping her hip. “Mac, I didn’t mean-”

Before she could finish, Mac held out her palm flat, while her other hand’s side slammed into it in an angered motion. It was a clear order she understood - _stop_.

Once it was made clear to her that Chandler wasn’t going to open her mouth again, McNamara broke the eye contact and began to stalk away. Chandler was desperate to ask her to stay, just so that she could _attempt_ to explain, but she could feel the pain the blonde was feeling, and it stung to know it was there. All she could do is watch her go, guilt consuming her, and only made worse when she stopped next to Duke, who gave her an empathetic look.

She heard McNamara mutter something. It was inaudible, but she could assume she was telling Duke where she was going. Duke just nodded in response and murmured a, “See you there,” before McNamara’s pace sped up as she made her way around the corner, out of sight. Chandler could faintly hear her light footsteps echo down the near-empty corridor, but she knew she couldn’t follow them.

“When is this gonna end, Heather?” Duke’s voice dragged her back into reality, and she looked at her, dazed. “When are you going to actually look around and realise that you’re… kind of a dick?”

Chandler narrowed her eyes, hiding the feeling of hurt pooling in her gut. “God, why do you have to _always_ drag me down?”

Duke’s mouth twitched. “I’m not. I’m-”

“For fuck’s sake, every time I feel like I actually achieved something, you’re there telling me all the things I did wrong!”

Duke frowned. “Because you need _someone_ to tell you you’re fucking up, Heather-”

“But that’s _all_ you do! Unless _you’re_ somehow involved, unless _you_ have a say in something, you just don’t _care_!”

“That’s not true-”

“But I don’t get _why_ !” she yelled. “You’re supposed to be my friend! My _best_ friend, and yet half the time it feels like you don’t even _like_ me!”

“Heather, you’re not-”

“Is it because you think I’m prettier or something? Or do you not like how I get more attention than you?” She took a step closer to her, beginning to loom over the shorter girl. “Is it because you feel like a junior following a sophomore around? ‘Cause I get it, that must be frustrating, being held back a year and all-”

“Fucking hell, are you _hearing_ the words coming out of your mouth?” Duke hissed.

“Just admit you’re _jealous_ of me and maybe I’ll be able to fucking understand you-”

“I don’t need to _admit_ to anything!”

“Then neither do I!”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Shut up!”

Duke snorted. “Of course, just shut me down when you don’t want to hear that you’ve done something wrong-”

“I said, _shut up, Heather!_ ”

The sharpness in her tone seem to make Duke clamp her mouth shut, and for a second, she actually looked vulnerable.

And in that second, Chandler felt as if her whole world was coming apart.

She never wanted this. She just wanted to be safe. She wanted Mac to be safe, for Heather to be safe. She wanted to get through high school _alive_.

And she’d been doing that. She’d been able to avoid the harassment they faced in middle school. She’d been able to gain _likability_ , albeit towards only what she put on show. The rest would stay backstage, behind the curtains, writing scripts and making sure the lighting was on point.

And with every performance she made, it seemed like Heather was only there to heckle, when really she should’ve been there to applause her. To support her.

All because she wanted to be the starring role. She was sure of it.

“I… I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Chandler eventually growled, stepping away from her. Duke blinked, her expression unreadable. When she remained still for a few more seconds, she glared at her. “Didn’t you hear me? I said _go_.”

Duke hesitated, her leg twitched, debating whether or not to actually leave.

“...Fine,” she muttered. “I hope you don’t mind doing lunchtime poll solo from now on.” She averted her eyes. “Since you’re so set on this idea that I’m just dragging you down. Wouldn’t want to get in the way, now, would I?”

With that, she stalked away, around the corner, out of sight. She assumed to wherever Mac may be right now.

And with no one to share the air with, Chandler inhaled deeply, and exhaled audibly, trying to rid of the pain in her chest. All the while she stumbled backwards until she hit the wall behind her, dropped her bag and slipped down to the floor. She didn’t care if it was dirty and hadn’t been mopped in months. It didn’t matter.

She could only tuck her knees to her chin and let her head flop over them, blocking the light from the flickering light bulb out.

 _This isn’t my fault!_ she told herself. _I’m not the one at fault here!_ She lifted her head. _Okay, well, I shouldn’t have given Ram a handjob. That was stupid. And maybe I should’ve told Mac, but I just…_ She sighed and bit her lip, teeth threatening to pick the skin off underneath the red lipstick. _Doesn’t mean Heather shouldn’t apologise either! Because I’m right. I know I am._ She did indeed end up picking the skin off, only noticing when a brief sting in her lip reminded her to stop. _I’m not apologising to her. It should be the other way around!_ She grumbled as she reached into her bag to grab her lipstick and mirror.

_I know why I do the things I do. I don’t need her telling me otherwise._

 

* * *

 

Duke felt light, and yet strangely weighted. For a moment she felt like she was floating, but a pain in her head pinned her down.

Her lids were heavy, and it felt like they were glued shut. The area around her eyes was dry. Too dry for comfort.

At least the air was warm.

As her senses began to wake up, albeit slowly, she was able to pick up more things around her without opening her eyes. First thing - her head was lying on something soft. Her first thought was that it was a pillow, yet the warmth being radiated from it threw that idea out the window. Second thing she noticed was that one hand was touching something… leather? She could only assume it was leather with the small movements she made with her fingers over the material.

Last thing she noticed was that, despite the aching in her head, something was soothing it. Like a burn was being run under cold water. It still hurt, but it was helping. Hell, it was relaxing, and she was tempted to just stay put for as long as she could.

But then memories began flooding back to her. She remembered she had tried to walk away from Heather… she’d been in the woods, and suddenly everything went black. If she had a dream, she couldn’t recall what it was. All she knew was that she had last been in the woods. It was cold, the ground was rough… no fucking way was she still there right now.

Where the fuck was she?

She finally blinked open an eye. First colour she saw was a dark grey. It was too blurry for her to make out any sort of object her brain could process.

She blinked open the other eye. Still blurry, but more could be seen. She still saw dark grey, but surrounding it was different shades of grey, with a paler colour behind it…

Car. She was in a car.

She was in Heathers car. In the back seat. She was staring at the front seat, with the windshield behind it.

As she became more aware, she was able to process the soothing sensation on her head. Gentle fingers were brushing over her scalp, then combing her hair in a delicate fashion. Occasionally they’d lightly tug, but it was never too hard. Just enough to be soothing.

The action reminded her of McNamara. Like that time she washed her hair after vomiting up her vodka. Or any time she braided her hair.

But this definitely was _not_ McNamara.

She debated lying still, and just let Chandler continue playing with her hair. But the longer she thought about it, the more confused she got. She was clearly lying on her lap - that’s why it was warm (and soft?) - which was already odd enough. Only McNamara ever did that with Chandler. She was the only one allowed to do that with Chandler.

And to add onto the ten-layer cake of what-the-fuckery, how in the _hell_ did she get to Heather’s car? _When_ did she get to her car? Was she awake at some point and decided to walk back, and she just doesn’t remember? What the fuck?

All of this was enough to finally get her to slowly turn her head. The subtle movement wasn’t enough to catch Chandler’s attention. She was too busy playing with her locks, all the while leaning against the glass of her window, staring off into the distance. One thing Duke noticed was that her hair was wet, and her makeup was smudged. Mainly around the eyes. Her lipstick was fine, though.

Duke hesitated, before finally sitting up, keeping her eyes glued on Heather. At first, she didn’t react, other than lazily glancing at her lap, probably to latch her fingers back onto her hair again. It was only when Duke had straightened herself up did Chandler realise she was awake, and she widened her eyes at her. For a second, she looked panicked. Then it melted into a look of embarrassment. Duke just arched a brow at her.

“I have questions,” she began, paying no heed to how hoarse her voice was as she twisted her body around to fully face her. Chandler just stared back at her, looking like a deer frozen in the headlights. “One: what the fuck were you doing.”

Chandler remained silent at the question, which didn’t actually sound like a question. More like a demand.

Then she shrugged.

“Fidgeting,” she simply replied, staring down at her lap.

“With my hair?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Duke pursed her lips as she gazed at her lap, then back up at her.

“No, it’s just weird. And kinda leads onto my next question.” She let her chin rest in her palm. “Why was I on your lap?”

Chandler licked her lips nervously. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“So?”

If you haven’t noticed, this back seat isn’t made for one person to lie on, and the other to sit on,” she muttered, gesturing to the seat.

“Oh-kay….” Duke’s brows knitted.

“Anything else you want to ask?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “How did I get here?”

Chandler’s eyes rounded a little, before she cocked her head to the side and forced a smile. “What do you mean?” She batted her lashes innocently.

“I _mean_ , the last thing I remember was walking away from you through the woods,” Duke said. “So how the ever-living fuck did I get to your car?”

She held Chandler’s gaze for a while, her blue stare desperate to look as innocent as possible, and after some time passed, Duke wondered if she should be concerned.

Then Chandler’s smile dropped, as did her head, and she tapped her fingers on her thigh anxiously.

“I crred you,” she muttered quietly. Too quietly for Duke to hear.

“You _what_?” She edged forward.

“I _carried_ you,” she repeated, this time louder. Duke sat up straight again upon hearing it, and gave her an odd look.

“Like… _carried_ carried?”

Chandler arched a brow at her. “What the fuck else do you think I mean?”

“Dunno. Like, dragging me through the woods by the ankle, maybe.”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “No, otherwise your hair would be a mess, and probably covered in mud.”

Duke brought a hand up to her hair, and felt that it was wet, but not muddy. Phew.

Though, she also noticed that it felt… loose.

“Wait, where’s my-” She bunched up her hair into her hand, and sure enough, found that it was free from her green ribbon. “Where’s my ribbon?”

Chandler clicked her tongue. “It blew away.”

Duke dropped her hair and stared at her. “You let it _blow away_?”

“No! I tried to grab it, but it was already long gone!”

“Surely you could’ve chased after it!”

“And what, leave you on the ground, unconscious and bleeding?”

“Well- wait, bleeding?” She widened her eyes.

Chandler frowned. “You hit your head.” She tapped her own forehead, gesturing for Duke to do the same. Duke hesitantly brought her own hand up to her forehead, and felt what she could recognize as a plaster. “Good thing I had my first aid kit in my trunk.”

Duke scoffed at her, about to make a sharp retort, when something caught her eye.

Her sleeve was red.

She stared at it in confusion, and it took her about two seconds to connect the dots. Chandler wasn’t wearing her jacket. _She_ was.

“Why am I wearing your…”

“You were fucking freezing,” Chandler said. “You felt like a goddamn statue made from stone out there.” Her mouth twitched. “Also, your blood stained my sleeve, so…” She shrugged. “You can just have it.”

Duke widened her eyes at that last part. When was the last time she’d worn Chandler’s clothes?

“Uh… thanks?”

Chandler just gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Duke replayed the events that had happened… well, she didn’t know how long ago it was. Who knows how long she passed out for? Either way, she thought she would’ve been mad at Chandler when she woke up, but… she wasn’t. She was by no means _happy_ , she was just… empty. Like every ounce of anger she’d harbored towards her had been regurgitated into their argument. Now she didn’t know how to feel.

She hardly noticed Chandler hold out a bottle of water in front of her until she spoke,

“Turns out I did have water in my bag,” she said quietly. Duke slowly took hold of it, and it was only when she took the first sip that she realised how thirsty she actually was. She swallowed several gulps, and by the time she was finished, the bottle was almost empty. She could also appreciate how the chill of the water soothed the constant pains in her stomach.

“Um…” Chandler spoke up just as Duke lowered the bottle from her lips. “Listen, I…”

Duke turned towards her, brow raised as Chandler’s eyes darted left to right, thinking up the right words.

“I… I won’t take you to the doctor,” she finally said. “Or, I won’t force you to go.” She twiddled her thumbs, staring at them. “It’s not like I can drag you there by the wrist once we get there, so…”

Duke blinked at her, surprised. Surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. Surprised by the softness in her voice. Surprised how she seemed too _scared_ to look her in the eye.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t stop pestering you about it, though,” she added on, snapping her head towards her. “Because you still _need_ to go.”

Duke shrank a little under her gaze, but it wasn’t the usual feeling of fear. It felt more like… understanding, and maybe even feeling guilty for understanding.

“And if me having to carry your unconscious ass out of the fucking woods isn’t good enough for you, maybe just consider that…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “That… Mac’s worried for you, Heather.”

A twinge of sorrow twisted in Duke’s gut, adding onto the physical pain that was already there.

“So is Veronica.”

So she really did care.

“And…” Chandler swallowed, chewing on her lip as she stared at her hands. Then she raised her head, and her crystal blue eyes split right through Duke’s skull. Duke saw in them something she almost didn’t recognize, coming from the Demon Queen herself.

Genuine emotion.

“So am I,” she finally said. Her voice was quiet, and it sounded like she forced the words out, but not in a way that sounded like she was lying. It was in a way that sounded nervous. “I’m worried, Heather,” she repeated, her voice a little stronger.

Duke just held her gaze for a while, unsure what to say, how to react. She debated just scoffing at her, maybe rolling her eyes and just telling her to drive her back to her house and forget any of this ever happened. Or maybe…

“I can drive you back,” Chandler cut her thoughts off. “We never have to speak of this again. You can just… forget this ever happened.” Weird how they were so different, yet seemed to share the same train of thought.

Or maybe they weren’t different. Maybe they were too similar for each other’s liking.

They sat in silence for a little longer, the only sound being the pained gurgling from Duke’s starving stomach. Fuck, how was she already hungry, anyway? She ate a huge meal last night.

 _Except I didn’t eat it,_ she mused. _I haven’t eaten a proper meal since…_  She blinked. _Since… God, has it been that long? Since July? It’s fucking December!_

Her jaw slightly dropped at the thought.

_Almost half a year, and the only food I’ve dared to digest are diet bars, a few berries here and there… do cough sweets count?_

Her stomach interrupted her. Someone might as well be impaling her with a knife, because that’s what it was beginning to feel like.

 _It never stops._ She felt her cheeks heat up. _It’s not going to stop._

She bit her lip, which had begun to quiver.

_It’s not going to stop until I die._

“Um…” She vaguely registered Chandler speaking. “I’ll drive you home.” She went to grab the door handle so that she could move to the driver’s seat. “So long as you agree to-”

Duke grabbed her arm before she could even open the door. Chandler stared at her, confused.

“N-no,” Duke stammered. Chandler remained still for a moment, before slumping back into her seat and waiting for Duke to continue.

“No?”

Duke shook her head. “No,” she repeated. “I…” Another stab of pain, she almost groaned at it. “I’ll… I’ll go.”

She could see Chandler’s eyes widened a little from the corner of her eye, but she was too focused on how much her hands were shaking to care.

“You will?” Chandler asked. “Like, right now?”

Duke nodded her head slowly, all the while she felt tears begin to well up in the corners of her eyes.

“Uh… great! We still have a lot of time before-” She reached out for the door again, but stopped when she saw Duke’s expression. Duke could only assume that her silent crying was obvious. “Um… I… take it you don’t want to go?”

“No, no, it’s not that…” Duke bit her lip. “It’s…” She gave a hiccup. “E-everything,” she whimpered, bringing up her knees onto the seat so she could hug them.

“Everything?” Chandler echoed, puzzled.

Duke just squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears out and roll down her cheeks.

“It’s just…” She noticed her voice grow more high pitched, but she didn’t care. “I’ve spent all this time… _starving_ myself.” Her voice shook. “And I… I can’t do it anymore.”

She didn’t hear Chandler say anything. She didn’t expect her to.

“I’ve just wasted so much fucking time putting myself through it, and I just…” She buried her face behind her knees as she let out a sob. “I can’t.”

“I know,” she heard Chandler say.

Duke then picked her head up from her knees and dared to gaze at Chandler. Usually she would’ve expected her to laugh at her vulnerable state. Maybe tell her to save it for later or something along those lines. But she didn’t find that. She just found… comfort. Like someone was listening to her. It just so happened that that person was Heather Chandler.

And that… that was fine.

Because honestly, she’d missed this side of Chandler. She didn’t even think it existed anymore. She thought it got swallowed up by her need to be the tallest one in the room. To float above all those silly things like empathy.

She was glad to see her come back down, if not for a little while. Because now that Chandler was at her level, Duke could reach her. Her shoulder, to be exact.

She was crying on her shoulder.

“You just… you have _no_ idea how much it _hurts_ !” she cried, her voice muffled by the bare shoulder she’d buried her face into. “Waking up knowing I have to go about my day in pain, then _actually_ going about my day in pain, and having to watch everyone else be _fine_ .” She let out a sad huff. “God, if there’s anything to be jealous of, it’s _that_.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and rested her temple on Chandler’s shoulder instead. “Being able to not deal with a constant aching in your stomach.”

Duke took a moment to blink a couple more tears out of her eyes, and during that moment, she realised that perhaps leaning against Heather-fucking-Chandler’s shoulder wasn’t the wisest idea.

But before she could move away, an arm slipped around her back and a hand patted her lightly on the head. Duke could tell it was an awkward gesture, almost as if Chandler were trying to hold back, but regardless, it was an attempt at comfort, and a sign that she was able to remain leaning against her without trouble.

“Sleep’s another thing I miss,” Duke muttered. “Imagine what it’s like being able to sleep without constant interruptions, or waking up shivering at two in the morning.”

“I mean, I know what you mean by uninterrupted sleep and shit,” she heard Chandler mumble. She almost sounded embarrassed. Duke raised a brow, curious, and perched her chin on her shoulder to look over to her. She was sheepishly gazing back at her, with a twinkle in her eye that resembled a human soul.

“Yeah, it’s not…” She rubbed her eye with her palm. “Not fun.” She pursed her lips into a tight line, hoping it would block out any more sobs that were crawling up her throat. She felt Heather run her hand up and down her arm in a brief caress, and she found the courage to keep going.

“Not as bad as having to throw it up, though,” she murmured, her voice husk. “It’s a lose-lose. It feels gross keeping it down, and it’s gross when it comes up.” Her head flopped onto its side, and she felt fingers run through her hair. “I just… I can’t do it anymore, Heather.”

“Then don’t.”

“It’s not that _simple_!” she yelled, clenching her fists. “How am I gonna keep meals down? How am I gonna convince myself to touch a meal to begin with?” She clamped her teeth down on her quivering bottom lip. “Fuck… I-I just can’t imagine… Imagine what it would be like without it all.” She buried her face into the warmth of the crook of Heather’s neck. “It’s torture, but… I dunno, it’s comforting, I guess.”

“Yeah, you can really tell,” Chandler grunted, tone thick with sarcasm. Duke let out a sigh.

“Look, I just mean that if I gave it all up, I’d…” She lifted her head up from Chandler’s shoulder, seeing her vision was blurred by tears. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Not die.”

Duke glared at her. “Okay, I get it, _smartass_ , it was risky and I should never have gotten myself into this mess to begin with.” She slumped back in her seat, arms crossed and eyes clouded, while Chandler tilted her head at her.

“Then… why did you?”

Duke swallowed, and turned her head away from her.

“I don’t know… I… just wanted some sort of… control in my life.” She shrugged. “I thought that maybe I could control my image, at the very least.” Her vision grew blurry as the distant memory flooded back to her. “I didn’t mean for it to get so… _bad_.”

She heard Chandler swallow.

“How?”

Duke peered at her in confusion.

“How what?”

“How did it happen?” Chandler clarified. Duke searched her expression, expecting to see some form of mockery. But she didn’t. She just looked… concerned. It was as if someone had flicked a switch while she was unconscious.

_Maybe that person was me._

“It started out with just skipping a few meals,” Duke began slowly. “No harm done, right? Everyone skips meals now and then.” She bit her lip. “But… it became frequent. Just me, eating so little.” She tucked her knees under her chin and hugged them. “It just ended up with me getting really hungry, so the next meal that I had I just… scoffed it down, really.”

_***_

_“God, Heather, do you have to eat like a walrus in front of everyone?”_ _Hunter had jeered. Her older brother, Hayden, cackled along with him._

_“You’re acting as if you haven’t eaten in days,” he added on. Heather felt something twist in her gut when he said that, but mustered up the courage to scowl at him._

_“Could you fuck off?” she snapped, only to be harshly hushed by her mother._

_“Heather! No swearing at the table.”_

_Heather whipped her gaze over to the petite woman and glowered at her._

_“Oh, but they’re allowed to belittle me?”_

_“Heather.”_

_The low voice of her father made her flinch, and she gingerly turned her head towards him, and saw that he was glaring right at her. She felt herself shrink under his gaze._

_“Sorry, father,” she muttered reluctantly, before returning to her food. She foolishly thought for a moment that she might be able to finish it in peace, but when she took a large fork-full of food without even thinking, she had heard Hunter snicker from next to her._

_“Really, Heather? You’re still tryna get fat to get tits?” he snorted. “Are the fake ones not good enough for you?”_

_Rage flushed through her, like someone had broken a dam and released boiling hot water. She stared at her brother with a fiery gaze, one that actually seemed to do its job, since his smirk dropped into a frown and he slowly returned to his own plate. Heather, however, felt herself twitching with anger, but also shame._

_She took another glance at her half-finished meal, and suddenly felt sick even thinking about finishing it._

_Maybe her brothers were right. Maybe she was disgusting._

_“I feel sick,” she announced suddenly, and didn’t even give her family a chance to respond before she grabbed her plate, made her way over to trash bin in the kitchen and scooped the leftovers off, before scurrying away up the stairs._

_She found herself standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror. She stared at her reflection, and she wondered if her brothers were right. She pinched her round cheeks, then her sides, even her arm. She dared not pinch her thighs._

_Of course, she found fat wherever she went. Of course she would._

_Her gaze traveled away from the mirror, and landed on the toilet. And a thought occurred to her._

_She’d heard enough from the bitches at school to know what to do. She knew how it worked. It was all about the gag reflex, right?_

_She took a few steps towards it, looking at her hands. Might be a bit difficult. Her hands were small and her fingers were short. She had no idea if she’d be able to reach the back of her throat._

_Regardless, she had tried. But every time, her knuckles would scrape her teeth and she just couldn’t reach far back enough for anything more than a brief hurl to happen. She gave a groan of frustration, dropping her hand to her side. Guess she was stuck being fat._

_Her eyes then drifted over to the bathroom counter, and landed on her toothbrush. She pursed her lips as she thought for a moment, before she reached over and grabbed it. She stared at it for a moment, debating just putting it back down and going to her room. But she just wanted the gross feeling in her to stop._

_So she went through with it._

_It felt awful. She didn’t know what she expected - vomiting had always been an awful sensation. She’d almost forgot to pull her hair back. After it was out, and floating in the water below, she felt dazed._

_But she was empty. It worked. She’d eaten, and she hadn’t digested a bite of it._

_She was in complete control of this, she had told herself. Maybe her home was shit, and her family constantly put her down. Maybe school was ruthless, and despite her efforts, Heather Chandler would always beat her to the top regardless of how much of a mess she really was._

_But she had control over this. Her own body - the thing she’d been insecure about for so long. It was perfect._

_She had control._

_***_

“It was supposed to be a one time thing,” Duke finished. “But then I started doing it on occasion… then it just… _escalated_.”

She sniffed, and the hand cradling her abdomen landed on her stomach.

“I didn’t mean for it to get like this.”

She saw Chandler shift over to her side.

“You don’t have to keep living like that, either,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “You don’t need to try and look pretty or anything, you know.”

“But-”

“You’re already pretty, Heather.”

Duke held her gaze for a moment, and while she sounded earnest, she just couldn’t believe a word. She was no Chandler. She wasn’t even a McNamara, or a Veronica.

She was just… her.

“Thanks, but…” She let her head hang. “I just…”

“You what?”

Duke tried to think up an argument, but her brain felt too tired to do so. She just shrugged defeatedly.

“Well…” Chandler said, and Duke felt a hand land on her arm that tugged her a little closer. “Regardless, I don’t think it’s worth _dying_ for beauty.” Duke lifted her head again, and she saw the corner of Chandler’s mouth was raised. “That’s… a bit extreme.”

There may have been tears in her eyes, but Duke couldn’t help but let out a snort of a amusement. God, when she worded it like that, she felt like such a dumbass. But not in a way where she felt hurt. No… she could laugh along to this.

“It’s not just that, it’s just…” Her simper disappeared. “I can’t imagine giving it up.” She chewed on her lip, and another more frightening thought occurred to her. “But… but if I did. If I went to the doctor, I mean, my parents…” She stared at Chandler, hoping she’d understand what she wanted to say, and by how she winced, Duke could tell she did. “Them finding out is one of my worst nightmares.” She picked her head off of her knees. “Literally. I have _nightmares_ about that shit!”

She let out a whimper, covering her mouth when she did so, while Chandler gazed at her.

“Well, yeah, that’ll probably suck, but-”

“ _Will_ suck!”

“... _Will_ , suck,” Chandler corrected herself. “But it’s… it’s better than losing you, okay?”

Duke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared into Chandler’s crystal blue gaze, and she reluctantly nodded.

“Y-yeah, I guess.” She scrunched up her nose. “Just sucks that they’ll be told about it so I have extra support, but all I’m gonna get out of it is extra _guilt_.”

“You don’t need them.”

Duke looked doubtful. “I’ll need something- some _one_ ,” she muttered weakly. “It sounds so stupid. I just wanted to feel in control of my life, but I wasn’t. This whole time, I wasn’t.” She brushed some strands of hair stuck to her wet cheeks. “So I got what was coming, I guess, because…” She sheepishly gazed up at her. “I-I need help. I can’t fix this by myself.” She sniffed again. “I need Emmy, because she seems to enjoy it when I’m alright.” Her lips curled into a subtle smile. “I need Veronica, because she seems to have her shit together.” She let out a huff, before lifting her head to Chandler.

“And I need you, because you’re just as much as a mess and a bitch as I am, and probably the only one who knows what I’m going through.”

Chandler gaped at her in response, and Duke couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“Oh, _I’m_ a mess?” Chandler scoffed. “ _I_ wasn’t the one who needed to be carried through the woods, in the _rain_ , because I nearly crashed my friends car and fucking fainted!”

Duke laughed harder.

“At least I wasn’t crying the entire time.”

Chandler widened her eyes. “How did you know I-”

“Makeup, Heather.” Duke gestured to her own eyes, while staring at the smudged mascara around Chandler’s. “You should consider getting waterproof eyeliner. The little demon horns you wear for wings is just a black smear.”

Duke snickered when she saw Chandler’s cheek grow a slightly darker shade.

“It was mostly the rain,” she mumbled as she reached into her handbag. Duke rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Sure.”

“And your makeup looks no better.”

Duke shrugged. “Not surprised.”

Chandler brought out a couple of makeup wipes, keeping on in her hand while tossing another over to Duke, who sniggered as she began to rub at her own eyes vigorously.

“But you’re right.”

Duke paused to look at her.

“Huh?”

Chandler was nervously rubbing her pursed lips together as she batted at her eyes with the wipe.

“I understand. I do now, anyway.” She briefly glanced at her. “Now that you’ve explained everything.”

Duke’s hand slowly fell back onto her lap, as did Chandler’s.

“But you’re still a bigger mess than I am.”

Duke gave an indignant huff, but it was all in good humour.

“Well,” she said, shrugging. “Looks like I finally beat you at something.” She gave a smug grin, or more like a parody of a grin often held by Chandler, all the while Chandler let out a snicker.

“I’m fine with that,” she said, before returning to her makeup. Duke, however, didn’t, and instead proceeded to stare at her for a while longer.

She should be questioning what the fuck happened after she fainted. What made Chandler give a shit about her all of a sudden. Where she found the heart to go through the, albeit messy, effort to get her help that she’d been in denial about needing for so long.

But she didn’t, because honestly, she didn’t care about an in-depth analysis right now. She knew the basic answer already.

Somewhere underneath the beautiful cover that she wore to show off to everyone, Chandler was still… Chandler. Still as cowardly as ever to never show her true self to anyone outside of her circle, or even within her circle, and Duke had always known why, because she felt it too.

Showing weakness of any sort is scary. It makes you feel small and pathetic. Even if it’s in front of people who you trust. Duke understood that better than Veronica or McNamara ever would.

And, just like she always did, she reasoned with herself that it was for that reason, and nothing else, did she lunge forward and embrace Chandler into a tight, warm hug. One that felt so strange, yet so familiar. Shit, when was the last time they hugged?

“Uh… okay, this is new,” she heard Chandler say as she stiffened under her grip. Duke scoffed.

“Is it?”

There was no response. Just some hesitation, before Duke felt arms sheepishly wrap around her. At first it was a light grip, but it gradually became more firm, almost like Chandler was slowly remembering how physical affection worked.

Correction - how physical affection worked with _Duke_. She’d hugged McNamara plenty of times, but with her, it was something that had faded over the past few years.

They stayed like that for a while - Duke wasn’t counting the seconds, so she had no idea how long. Neither of them moved, up until she heard Chandler say,

“So, um, doctor, then?”

Duke’s heart sank, but she forced herself to nod in agreement, and part from the hug. “Hopefully they’ll forgive us for being a _tiny_ bit late.”

“Actually, we’re early.”

Duke furrowed her brow. “Huh?”

Chandler glanced at her swatch. “The earliest I could book your appointment was ten thirty, and it’s ten right now.”

Duke blinked. “Oh. Um… great?”

“Uh-huh.” Chandler slumped in her seat, as did Duke.

“Wait a second…” Duke spoke up. “Why do you have my doctor’s number, anyway?”

Chandler snickered. “I have Mac’s too. It’s for emergencies.”

Duke shot her an odd look. “Yeah, but how did you-” She gazed at Chandler for a moment, before accepting she probably wasn’t going to get an answer. “Never mind.”

Chandler just smiled as she returned to cleaning off the last of her ruined makeup, while Duke let out a hum.

“So, what are we supposed to do for half an hour?”

Chandler shrugged as she reached into her bag for her mascara wand. “Redo our makeup, I guess.” Duke didn’t expect her to hand her the wand, so she was hesitant to take it. “We both look like messes.”

“This is what we’d look like if we let out true personalities shine though,” Duke joked as she was handed a mirror.

“ _Shhh…_ ” The harsh sound faded, and Chandler looked thoughtful for a moment. Duke just raised her brows, intrigued.

“...Shit, I hate it when you’re right,” she eventually muttered. Duke couldn’t help but laugh warmly.

She’d forgotten what this felt like, but fuck, it felt good to have it back.

And she wasn’t going to let it go this time.

 

* * *

 

For a summer’s day, it was pretty cloudy. There was a light wind that pushed the swinging chair back and forth, which probably should’ve bothered Heather, but it didn’t. Rather, it kept her body from the need to move as her mind was busy reading and re-reading the words on the pages in front of her.

She was so lost in her book that she didn’t hear the footsteps making their way up her patio, and for a while, didn’t notice the figure standing over her. It was only when she felt a light tap on her shoulder did she (jump and squeak in surprise) realise that Mac was standing right in front of her. Or, next to her, with how she was lying across the swinging chair as if it were a couch.

“Hey,” Mac greeted. Chandler gave a half-hearted smile, one that lasted only a few seconds.

“Hey,” she said back, letting the book land on her chest.

“Do you… mind if I sit?” Mac asked, pointing to the space of the chair where her legs were splayed across.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Chandler then lifted her legs up, not caring if her skirt fell down temporarily as her legs remained in the air while Mac took a seat. Once she was seated, her legs fell across her lap, and Mac’s hands attached themselves to the little red bow on the rim of her red knee-high socks.

“What are you doing here?” Chandler asked, gazing at her curiously. “Is the summer break getting boring already?”

“No. Well,” Mac shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what brings you to my humble abode?”

Mac let out a light huff of laughter.

“Well, I…” Her smile faltered, and Chandler could only guess that she was here for a more serious matter. Goddammit, could she not catch a break? It was the goddamn holidays.

“You what?” Chandler grunted. “If you need to say something, just say it so I can get it over with.”

Mac shot her an apologetic look. “It’s just… it’s been a few months since… uh…”

“Since…?”

“Y’know, our argument?” The words came out quietly, as if Mac was afraid to even mention it. And Chandler couldn’t blame her - she by no means liked to think about _that_ either.

“What about it?” she muttered dryly, making it clear that she didn’t want to stick to the topic for long.

“Well it’s just… I mean, you and Heather haven’t really been talking that much lately, and-”

“Yeah, I know.”

Mac visibly winced.

“Don’t you think… you two should maybe talk about it?” She looked at her hopefully. Chandler stared back at her.

“I think _she_ should talk about it with _me_ ,” she snapped back, letting her eyes be distracted by her book, though none of the words were processed in her mind.

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“I’m not gonna go crawling to her and asking for forgiveness!”

Mac twiddled her thumbs. “But I mean, you did say a few things that upset her…”

Chandler thought back to her own words and cringed.

“I mean… sure, I did, but…” She shook the thought off and shrugged. “She should still apologise.”

“For what?”

Chandler paused for a moment, actually considering the question.

Sure, she’d said some things that… she _really_ shouldn’t have.

Sure, she might have said some things that she _really_ shouldn’t have over the past few years. Or maybe even done some things that she shouldn’t have.

But it wasn’t _that_ which was the issue at hand here. The issue was that Heather was shutting her out, all because she was jealous of her. She could’ve taken it as a compliment - maybe she was just _that great_ \- but she just couldn’t. If it was a compliment, it came at a heavy cost. She could afford a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them.

“For just… letting her jealousy get the best of her, y’know?” She looked at Mac, hoping for some understanding. “I mean, that _has_ to be why she’s always so… so mad at me, right?”

Mac’s brows knitted as she gazed back with uncertainty.

“I… You really think she’s jealous?”

“I _know_ she is!” She frowned as she stared up at the sky, watching the clouds above float across the blue backdrop. “She just won’t admit it.”

“But… okay, say if she is,” Mac began. “She might still be upset about the argument. Maybe you could just try and talk to her?”

Chandler sighed and bit the inside of her cheek.

She wanted to talk to Heather like they were good friends again. She really did. And it’s not like they just _weren’t_ speaking right now - they were. The only difference now is that you could both hear and _feel_ the frustration between them both.

She then scoffed. “No! If _you’re_ talking to me after everything that happened, then why can’t _she_?”

Mac frowned. “I mean… I feel like I’d be a hypocrite if I was still mad at you.”

Both of them winced when she said that, immediately shaking that thought off their minds. Chandler wasn’t in the mood for reliving the guilt of _that day_ \- she was supposed to be reliving guilt of another day.

Damn, there’s a lot of guilt involved with being the next Queen Bee, isn’t there?

“Okay, fair enough, but…” She bit her lip. “But that’s not the point! Point is, that she should apologise for putting me down all the time, and maybe I’ll apologise for the things I said.”

“You’ll _maybe_ apologise?” Mac echoed.

Chandler frowned. “Okay, _will_ apologise,” she corrected herself. “But only when _she_ does.”

Mac pursed her lips. “You… you know she’s really upset, right?”

Chandler arched a brow. “Oh? And how would you know?”

Mac averted her gaze from hers. “I asked her?”

Chandler grimaced. “Mac… who’s side are you on?”

Mac blinked at her. “I have to pick _sides_?”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“You know you’re both my friends, right?”

“I know, I know. It was a legitimate question.”

Mac was quiet for a moment, before she let her head hang a little, turning her attention back to her hands, which were still fidgeting with her bow.

“I mean… Uh…”

Chandler groaned. “You can say Heather, you know.”

Mac peered at her guiltily. Chandler just rolled her eyes.

“Look, just… I’ll apologise one day, okay?” she told her. “Just not today.”

“How come?”

“Like I said. I’ll apologise when _she_ does.” She furrowed her brow. Mac just gazed at her for a while longer, before sighing in defeat and slowly nodding. Part of Chandler felt bad - in a way, she felt as if she shut her down. Sure, she was able to do that with Duke, but with Mac, it just felt _wrong_.

But she couldn’t ponder on that for long, because movement in her peripheral vision snapped her out of her thoughts. Chandler flinched and glanced over to the road in front of her house, seeing her parents’ car pull up the driveway.

“Shit,” she hissed as she swung her legs off of Mac and sat up into a sitting position. Mac also became alert at the sound of the car engine coming to a stop, staring at it from across the garden.

Chandler lightly elbowed her. “You should go.”

Mac whipped her head back to her and frowned.

“I can handle your parents.”

Chandler shook her head. “I know that, but I don’t want to _watch_ you handle my parents.” She gave her a light shove, a way to to tell her to get off the bench. Mac was hesitant to do so, but eventually stood up anyway, just as her parents got out of the car.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” she told her with a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can go to the mall and get more hair dye. Your roots are showing through.” She pointed to the brown slithering behind the blonde near her scalp, and Mac nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. Uh, call me, I guess?”

“As always.”

One last glance, and Mac began to speed-walk down the pathway as to avoid her parents coming around to the door. Thank God the path from the pavement and from the driveway were separate. As if anyone could be arsed interacting with her parents right now.

She paid no attention to them as they walked past her, climbing up the few steps to the door. She listened to them unlock it for a while, before beginning to zone out. Her mind wandered to the conversation she and Mac had shared, and she groaned.

 _I stand by it. I’m not apologising._ She crossed her arms over her chest, hardly noticing how she still held onto her book by the edge of the pages. _I know I said and did some bad things, but… ends justify the means, right? Right?_ Her expression faltered as she felt doubt hit her, but she shook the thought off.

 _Just because_ she _doesn’t have as much control over her life as I do doesn’t mean she has to take it out on me!_ Her head flopped back on the spine of the chair. _She could… I don’t know, be_ happy _for me for once?_ She realised that the clouds above her were growing darker and more grey, and she frowned.

 _Or… or maybe Mac’s right? Maybe I’ve been too mean for her to want to apologise…_ She then scoffed at the idea, shaking her head. _No. I know why I’m doing this. Just look at where I am, Heather! People love me. They look up to me. And I’m not even a junior yet!_ A smug smile began to crawl onto her lips. _I only just turned sixteen, and I’ve already been invited to a Remington Party in a few weeks. Who has their first Remington Party at_ sixteen _? Oh, right, me._ She straightened herself up. _I’m in complete control of my life-_

“Heather! Get in here and clean the living room, you’ve left your shit all over the table!”

The harsh tone of her father made her jump, and she immediately leaped off of her seat.

“Coming…” _Even though all I left on there was a coke can and a plate,_ she so desperately wanted to add. Either way, scurrying into her house and frantically gathering her things off the coffee table was enough to get her mind off of Duke.

She had other worries to think about. Like that Remington party, for example. What to wear?

 _I have a few weeks. It’s fine,_ she reminded herself.

_It’s all fine._

 

* * *

 

Luckily the waiting room was practically empty, so Chandler had no issue lying back on numerous chairs as she stared at the ceiling. The only other two people in the room was a child, probably about five or six years old, and their parent.

Duke had been gone for a while now. Maybe twenty? Thirty minutes? She’d only kept an eye on the clock for the first ten, before her mess of an attention span had gotten bored and searched for other things to occupy her. Right now, her hands were busy playing with a ring that she always wore - slipping it on and off of her fingers, and sometimes swinging it around on her pinkie. She must have gotten too comfortable with the action, however, since it eventually was flung off her finger and began to fall to the floor below.

“Shit!” she exclaimed as the ring dropped to the floor and rolled across. She watched it roll across the wooden surface, only stopping when it reached the seats where the mother sat and watched her child.

“Ma’am, could you watch your language in front of my daughter?”

Chandler looked up at the woman.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” she muttered as she hopped onto her two feet and began to make her way over to the ring. Luckily the woman was nice enough to pick it up for her, and handed it over when she could reach. “Thanks,” she said, slipping it back onto her finger.

“No worries.” The woman returned to watching her child, who was busy intently staring at one of those bead puzzles. “It’s not like she’ll be repeating any foul language any time soon anyway.”

Heather looked at her curiously, and she continued.

“She doesn’t really speak that much.”

She glanced back over to the child, and saw her repeatedly spinning a bead around on the blue metal string. She couldn’t help but smile - the behaviour reminded her of someone. She ran a thumb over the bead as she thought back to the memory.

“Does she know sign language?” Chandler asked suddenly. The woman blinked at her.

“Yes. Still learning, though, and so am I.”

Chandler hummed thoughtfully, before she went over to the table, kneeled down on the opposite side, facing the child. The child took notice, and stared at her in confusion. She even looked a little frightened. Chandler just smiled, and brought her hands up where she could see them.

 _“Hello, my name is Heather,”_ she gestured. _“What’s your name?”_

The child blinked at her in bewilderment, and for a second, Heather thought she might not respond. But then,

_“Hello, I am Jasmine.”_

_“That’s a nice name.”_

_“Thank you!”_ Jasmine giggled sweetly. Heather couldn’t hold back a smile, either.

Meanwhile, the mother gasped.

“You know sign language!”

Chandler stood up and glanced at her.

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing, hun!”

Chandler shrugged. “I had a friend who was mute as a child.” _Still my friend,_ she almost added. Then she winced at the thought. _Who is probably still mad at me._

“Oh! I see,” the woman said. Just as she did, the double doors leading to the rest of the building swung open, and Chandler saw Duke walking into the waiting room. She immediately spun around and made her way over to her.

“So?” she began. “How was it?”

Duke glanced up at her with a blank gaze.

“A lot,” she simply stated.

“That doesn’t say much.”

“I’ll give you a run-down when we get back to the car,” she mumbled. Chandler just shrugged, and began to follow her towards the exit, though she couldn’t help but glance back to Jasmine, who was signalling a goodbye. She mimicked the action back, before catching up with Duke.

“What did they say?” Chandler asked as they exited the building. Duke gazed up at her tiredly.

“Well, the good news, I suppose, is that they’re acquiring me a therapist ASAP,” she began, “bad news is that they’re telling my parents, though I already knew they would.” She let out an exasperated sigh as they both sauntered across the parking lot.

Chandler frowned. “We talked about this before.”

“I know,” Duke muttered as she made her way towards the passenger side door. “Still, it sucks to actually hear it.”

Chandler gave a grunt of acknowledgement as she clambered into her seat and shut the door. One thing that Chandler had missed so much is bitching about Duke’s shitty parents, and in return, bitching about her own.

“Well, hey, if they give you shit,” she said, and Duke glanced at her curiously. “Just… I don’t know, tell me, and you can come over or whatever?” She shrugged. “Or just do something to get out the house.”

She saw the corner of her mouth turn up at that.

“Thanks, Heather.”

Something warm was ignited in her when she heard that.

“Um… you’re welcome.” She tried to sound chippy to hide how unfamiliar this all felt. “So, um, what else did they say?"

“What do you mean?”

“As in, how are they dealing with all… this?” Chandler gestured to Duke, who rolled her eyes.

“I said before they were giving me a therapist.”

“Is that all?”

Duke arched a brow. “What else is there?”

Chandler shrugged. “I dunno, I thought that maybe they’d give you meds… or something…” As the words left her tongue, she realised how silly it probably sounded. Bulimia wasn’t a disease you could stop with fucking paracetamol pills.

It seems Duke agreed with her about it being a dumb question, and she had to remind herself to not look embarrassed when she gave a snort.

“If it were that easy, I would’ve come here _months_ ago,” she huffed. And in hearing her saying that, another question sprung into mind.

“Why _didn’t_ you come here sooner?”

Duke’s smile dropped, and she fell silent for a moment. Her chin angled down a little, almost as if she were ashamed.

“It’s effort,” she muttered. “Effort to have to deal with this, and getting rid of it.” Cloudy green eyes drifted to the building in front of them. “It’s not like I can just stop purging just like _that_ ,” she snapped her fingers, “I have to break habits, change routines… all that fun stuff.” Her hands dropped onto her lap, and she gazed down at them. “Not only is that _work_ , but… I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.” She let out a sad huff. “Strange how I felt like I was in control, but I didn’t believe I had the control I needed to stop it.” She leaned back against the seat and sighed. “Even now, I don’t know how I’ll manage.”

Chandler stared at her for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek.

“So… you’re still going to purge?”

“I’m not _planning_ on purging, but…” Duke bit her lip. “I know I’ll probably slip up at some point.” She stared back at her. “You might have to be ready for that.” Her gaze flickered, and suddenly she looked panicked. “And… so will M.” She covered her mouth. “Oh, God.”

“What?”

Duke stared at her with a worried look. “Is Heather mad at me?”

Chandler shot her a confused look. “No? What makes you say-”

“All this time I’ve been depending on her whenever I purge,” she lamented, her jaw clenched. “And you said before she was worried…”

Chandler winced as she thought back to the previous night. “Yeah, she is.”

“Fuck.” She buried her face in her hands. “Fuck, I need to apologise.”

“For what?”

“For making her worry!”

Chandler furrowed her brow. “Maybe talk to her about it, but I can’t imagine she’s expecting an apology.”

She peered over her hands. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” As she thought back to last night, an unpleasant thought hit her too. “She… I think _I_ might have to give an apology, though.”

Duke gave a confused look. “How come?”

“I, uh…” She twiddled her thumbs. “I got into an argument with Veronica and Mac last night. After you left.” She grimaced. “They’re probably still mad at me.”

There was a brief silence, before,

“ _Ooohhhh!_ ”

Chandler shot Duke an odd look. “What?”

“ _That’s_ where all of this came from!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering why you suddenly seemed terrified for my life.”

Chandler pouted at her and looked away.

“Okay, sure, Veronica gave me a reality bitch-slap, but-”

“I should thank her the next time I see her,” Duke cackled.

“But I-”

“Maybe she can teach me how to get through that thick skull of yours-”

“But I do _care_!” Chandler blurted out, silencing Duke in the process. Not by fear, but by surprise, if her widened, yet intrigued gaze were to tell anything. “If I’d known how serious this all was sooner, maybe I would’ve been better at showing it, but…”

A light tap on her arm caught her attention, making her forget all her words.

“Don’t bother explaining yourself, or excusing yourself,” Duke told her, holding a stern gaze. “I… I really want to believe that, okay? So stop wasting your time blabbering on about how you care, and use that time to prove it to me.” Her eyes dropped for a moment. “If that’s what you want.”

Chandler’s mouth twitched as the words sank in, and she found herself slowly nodding. Duke’s lips curled into a smile in response.

Then silence fell upon them again. Fuck, civil conversation between them was still a pretty new concept. Or, more of an old concept that’s been uncovered and is still starting up again. Kind of like a radio you find in the attic after thinking you lost it for three years or so.

“So… do you wanna go to the mall?” Chandler broke the silence. “We could go through with the original plan and find you a birthday present.”

Duke pouted. “I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

Chandler arched a brow at her suspiciously. “You don’t sound all that enthusiastic.”

She leaned back against the chair. “I mean, no. I’m fucking _drained_ , Heather.” She gazed over to her with tired eyes. “I fainted in the middle of the woods and have no food in my system.”

Chandler clenched her jaw. “Right… so, your house then.”

Duke opened her mouth to respond, probably to agree, but she paused.

“I can’t. My mom might be in, and I doubt she’ll be all that happy about me skipping today.” She groaned. “So I guess we’re going to the mall.”

Chandler cocked her head to the side as she turned her ignition key. “You know you can just crash at my house? If you need to sleep or whatever.”

“Aren’t your parents in?”

Chandler shrugged carelessly as she pulled out of the parking space. “They left this morning, and even if they come in, you can just hide in my room.”

“Ah. The usual Chandler method.”

Chandler gave a huff and rolled her eyes. “As if you don’t do the same.”

“You got me there,” Duke chuckled as she leaned against the window. Chandler kept her eyes glued to the road ahead, though there wasn’t much to keep an eye on due to this side of town being so deserted. Not in a bad way - it was peaceful. So different to the crowded hallways in school, or the booming bass at parties that shook the floors.

Maybe she should come back here one day. Just for a break.

“Wait, so if I’m napping, then what are you doing?” Duke questioned as they began to drive down the road leading to where they’d nearly crashed the car.

Chandler shrugged. “I’ll find things to occupy myself.” With that thought in mind, she began to think of what exactly she could to to entertain herself while Duke rested.

 _Well… I do still need to get her a present either way,_ she mused. _What the hell to get her though…_

“Maybe you can pay a visit to Veronica at some point,” Duke suggested, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Sort things out with her.”

Chandler bit her lip at the thought. “Maybe.” She tapped her fingers on the wheel as she debated how to go about that. “I might just pay her a visit later.”

“After school?”

“Duh.”

“Hm.” Duke clicked her tongue. “Maybe we can both go to her’s later… give her a run down of what’s happened.”

Chandler grunted. “I guess.” She made a turn. “If things go well, perhaps we can play a game of croquet.”

“Maybe,” Duke chuckled, before she fell silent for a moment. “Say…”

Chandler blinked at her. “What?”

Duke sheepishly grinned at her. “You know what you said before?”

“I said a lot of things before,” she retorted.

Duke pursed her lips. “About… me being red in the next game of croquet?” she said at a rapid pace, while batting her lashes innocently at her. Chander’s eyes had to dart back and forth between the road and Duke’s puppy eyes, but even when she wasn’t looking at her, she could feel them burning into her skull. She gave a defeated sigh.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” she muttered. “Take the offer before I regret it.”

She heard an excited squeal from Duke as she did a little hop in her seat. Chandler just scoffed, though it was difficult to hold back a simper at her reaction.

The ride back to Chandler’s didn’t last long - maybe about five minutes. From the corner of her eye, Chandler could see Duke slumping in her seat, as if she were ready to fall asleep right there and then. Luckily she was able to pull up in the driveway before she could let her eyes shut.

“Okay, get out, loser.” She lightly punched her on the arm to wake her up a little as she clambered out of the car. Duke followed on, and Chandler led her up to her room.

As she climbed the stairs, she began to think up a plan for the next few hours.

It wasn’t even midday yet. She had plenty of time before Veronica and Mac would be out of school, and Duke would probably be asleep for a few hours.

 _If I go to the mall now, I could grab a birthday present and be back in time to take us to Veronica’s,_ she thought to herself. _But what the fuck do I get, is the question._

She opened the door of her bedroom, and held it in place as Duke sauntered in. As she walked past her, Chandler took notice of her loose hair, and was suddenly reminded of the loss of her hair accessory.

_Hmm…_

“So, uh, couch?” Duke pointed to the white sofa next to her glass table. Chandler shot her an odd look.

“No? Trust me, that sofa is made for sitting, not sleeping.” She gestured towards her bed. “Just sleep on there.”

Duke gave a surprised look. “Isn’t that an act of blasphemy?”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first one to sleep on it-” _Oh, fuck, why did I say that?_

“Tch. I bet,” Duke grumbled as she kicked off her shoes and leaped onto the mattress. “Damn, I forget how soft this bitch is.”

Chandler just scoffed, paying no attention to how Duke rolled onto her side and glanced at her nightstand, up until she grabbed something. It was only when she realised what she had taken hold of did she become alert, and took a few steps forward, ready to snatch it back.

“Heather, put that down-” She stopped just a few feet away from the bed, and stared at Duke as she gazed at the framed photo. Her expression was unreadable for a few long, loud heartbeats that rang in Chandler’s ears, up until her lips curled into a smile.

“So Veronica wasn’t lying, huh?” Duke gave an amused huff as she held out the photo towards her, waiting for her to take it from her. Chandler was quick to do just that, feeling her face heat up from embarrassment.

“Of course she wasn’t,” Chandler muttered as she marched over to her vanity and set the frame back down in it’s usual spot.

“You fucking sentimental sap,” Duke jeered playfully. Chandler whipped her head around to glare at her, but was met with an amused, yet exhausted gaze. She just sighed, rolled her eyes, and began making her way over to the door.

“I’m going out,” she told her, pausing at the door. Duke gave a curious look.

“Out?”

“Yeah.” She placed a hand on the doorknob, ready to close it. “I’ll be back soon enough. Just…” She clicked her tongue. “Dunno. Stay here, I guess?”

Duke gave a thumbs up. “I’m fine with that.” The statement was followed by a yawn.

“If you hear the front door open, lock this door, just in case.” She tapped the doorknob. “Even if it’s just me.”

“Gotcha.”

Chandler gave a curt nod.

“So… see you later, I guess?”

Duke blinked once, then gave a small wave.

“Yeah.”

Chandler gave a quick smile, before she took hold of the doorknob and began to close it behind her. Just before it clicked, however, she heard Duke call,

“Wait!”

She swung the door back open.

“What’s wrong?”

Duke was sitting up on the bed as she smiled innocently at her.

“You going to get me a birthday present?”

Chandler arched a brow at her, before giving a sigh.

“Yes, I am.”

Duke gave a snicker. “I’m curious to what you’re getting.”

Chandler felt her lips curl into a smirk.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Dammit.” Duke pouted, before flopping back onto the mattress. Chandler gave a cackle.

“Surely your ass can wait a couple more days?”

Duke just raised a hand to flip her off. Chandler guessed she was too tired to sit back up again and give an actual response, so she just scoffed and said,

“Fuck you too.”

She heard Duke give an amused snort in response.

“You better not disappoint me.”

Chandler gave an indignant huff, and placed a hand on her chest to act offended.

“Me? Disappoint _you_?” She clicked her tongue. “Can’t believe you think so lowly of me.”

“Get out of here and buy me shit, you cocky fucker,” Duke fired back, though it was evident in her voice that it was all in good humour.

Chandler just rolled her eyes fondly, before she closed the door behind her for good. She kept hold of the knob for a moment, like she were allowing the friendly banter she’d successfully shared with Duke to sink in, and to let her brain known that it was indeed real, and her lips curled into a smile. Not a brief smile, either. It was one that stayed stitched to her face as she made her way down the stairs and through the house.

It didn’t even falter when she shut the front door behind her and returned to her car, as she knew full well what she was going to get her.

 _Maybe it would even be able to beat Mac in her imaginary “best present” contest,_ she mused as she grabbed her bag from the backseat to check that all necessities were in there, grinning as she did so.

 _Either way, I know she definitely won’t hate it,_ she thought, letting out a giddy giggle as she started up her car.

_And fuck, that’s a good feeling to have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M VERY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, IT WAS A FUCKING PAIN TO WRITE (and also 43k words long-)
> 
> also can you believe this fic still isn't over. ikr.
> 
> (the next chapter will be short i promise-)
> 
>  
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


	3. Complimentary

Heather was in her room, reading. What exactly she was reading, she wasn’t entirely sure, she just knew that she was half way through the book. Though each time she looked away from the page and returned, it seems the words kept changing each time. A little odd, but whatever.

_ “Heather!” _

She flinched at the sound of her mother’s muffled voice sounding from outside her room, even more so at how angry it sounded.

Slowly she lowered her book onto her lap so that she had full view of her door, which swung open as soon as the pages touched her thighs, revealing her mother storming into the room.

“Heather, why is there vomit in the toilet?” she screeched before she could even stop at the foot of her bed. As she processed the words, Duke’s heart sank.

“Huh?” She tried to sound as confused as she could.

“ _ Look, _ ” she hissed, pointing towards the door. Duke felt as if she had no choice but to slip out of bed and saunter over to her door, where as soon as she stepped out of the doorframe, she stepped into the bathroom. She stumbled over to the toilet, knowing the only escape route was blocked by her mother, and stared at it in the most dumbfounded way she could muster.

“I dunno,” she grunted, reaching to flush it away so that it could be forgotten. But before her hand could touch the handle, her mother slapped it away.

“We know you did this, Heather!”

A pit of dread formed in her empty stomach, and she winced under her mother’s glare.

“I-”

“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” Her tone was sharp enough to stab her in the heart.

Duke chewed on her lip.

“I thought I flushed it,” she muttered as she stared at the pile of vomit - an all-too familiar sight.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Duke arched a brow at her.

“Because I knew you’d have this reaction,” she retorted. Even more anger warped her mother’s face, and a twinge of fear struck her.

“You’re in  _ so _ much trouble!” A tight grip latched itself around her wrist, and Heather hissed in pain. “We didn’t raise you to be  _ this _ , Heather!”

“You didn’t raise me to be a lot of things,” she spat back.

Her mother narrowed her eyes.

“You wouldn’t be in this situation if you just listened to us more,” she growled. “I  _ told _ you that those two girls were bad news-”

“What do they have to do with  _ anything _ ?”

Her mother let out a demeaning scoff. “One of them is a disappointment to her parents and the other’s a fucking retard. It makes sense why you’d find comfort in such people, but perhaps you wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so  _ disobedient _ .”

Rage suddenly flooded through Heather, giving her enough strength to snatch her wrist back and swing around and grab a wooden plant leaning against the shower cubicle.

“They’re better family than you’ll  _ ever _ be!” she snarled, gripping the piece of wood. “And that’s saying a lot since one of those friends can be so  _ shit _ !” She lifted it above her shoulder height. “At least she  _ knows _ when she’s fucked up!”

She then swung it forward, aiming right for the centre of her mother’s forehead, but just as the wood was about to make impact, Duke felt as if she was falling. She blinked, and her vision warped into one of darkness as she felt gravity haul her below.

_ Thump. _

Duke’s eyes shot open, and she felt her body jolt as if she had just hit the ground. It took her a few seconds of hearing nothing but her racing heart to realise that she wasn’t on the ground at all. She was lying down on an incredibly soft mattress, one that felt nothing like her own.

_ Click. _

She fluttered open her eyes. The first thing she saw was a framed photo, featuring the faces of two people who she recognized. Herself, in her embarrassing preteen form, and Chandler, back before she wore anything red.

She felt a corner of her mouth pick up at the sight, though she couldn’t focus on the photo for long, since movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced across the room, and saw Chandler herself, hands having just let go of the handles of her wardrobe. She could only assume she had just closed out.

“Look who made a return,” Duke grunted, yawning and stretching out her arms in front of her, satisfied at the sound of her bones clicking.

Chandler looked surprised to see her awake, though was quick to relax.

“Look who decided to wake up,” she retorted.

Duke let out a tired groan. “Woke up from a pretty shitty dream, so I’d say it’s a good thing.”

Chandler stalked over to the bed and hopped onto the end of it, tucking her legs up onto the mattress.

“Hold on, let me guess,” Chandler said, looking thoughtful. Duke arched a brow curiously. “Hmm… parents?”

Duke nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yelling at them?”

“Mhmm.”

“About to beat them up with a weapon?”

“Spot on.”

Chandler gave a thumbs up. “I’m oddly glad that neither of us have grown out of this.”

“It’s comforting to know we’re not alone in wanting to kick our parents’ fucking teeth in, I guess.” Duke shrugged nonchalantly, before yawning again. “Ugh… speaking of sleep, how long was I out for.”

“Um…” Chandler leaned forward a bit to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “About four hours or so.”

Duke gave a huff. “Huh. My naps aren’t usually so long.” She then looked at Chandler curiously. “What the hell have you been doing for four hours?”

Chandler blinked at her. “I told you. I went out.”

“Ah, right. To get me a birthday present.” Duke grinned and batted her lashes at her. “But were you seriously out for four hours?”

“No! Maybe one hour at most,” Chandler replied as her eyes trailed down to her skirt.

“Then what were you doing this whole time?”

Chandler took a moment to brush off some stray green strings stuck to the fabric of her skirt before replying. “Stuff,” she muttered, before looking up again. “Anyway, nap times over, we’re going to Veronica’s.”

The thought of leaving the incredibly soft mattress was enough to get Duke to groan.

“But I’m so  _ comfortable _ ,” she whined, flopping back onto it, arms splayed out at her sides. She glanced over to Chandler, who had slipped off the bed and stood up to glare down at her. Her eyes didn’t hold the usual venom - just a regular annoyance that was by no means intimidating, just amusing enough to get her to snort.

“Keep this up and you bet your ass that the red mallet is  _ mine _ ,” Chandler then threatened as she grabbed Duke’s hands to begin hauling her up, though hearing the comment made Duke spring onto her feet by herself, causing Chandler to stumble back a little at the unexpected movement.

“Okay, okay, I’m up!” She held her hands up in defense. Chandler just scoffed and rolled her eyes, before nodding towards the door. Duke just gave an amused huff, before following her out the room. While doing so, Duke exhaled through her mouth, and she noticed just how dry it was.

“Ugh, hey, you mind if we grab some water before we leave?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure.” Chandler gave a curt nod as she began to scurry down the stairs, Duke trailing behind, and lead her towards the kitchen.

“I have some sparkling water about, if you want,” Chandler said as they stepped into the kitchen accented in red, which also reminded Duke of the red fabric she was still wearing. She almost forgot to answer Heather, she was so focused on staring at the jacket that, while a little too big for her, was still comfortable. Not just with the soft fabric that covered her torso, but with the  _ look _ .

Duke couldn’t name the last time she wore red.

It just didn’t go with the green, she had told herself. Basic colour theory.

_ But I’ve missed how it looks… _

“Heather, you’re not gonna faint in my kitchen, are you?” Chandler’s voice snapped her back into reality, and she glanced at her as she waved her hand up and down to catch her attention.

“Huh?” Duke blinked at her.

“I said, sparkling water or no?”

Duke glanced at the large bottle that Chandler has pulled out from the cupboard, bubbles occasionally floating to the top.

“Just normal water’s fine,” she said. Chandler just shrugged as she unscrewed the bottle lid and took a swig of the fizzy liquid from the bottle.

“Suit yourself,” Chandler said as she went over to the fridge to grab a bottle of regular water. She tossed it over to Duke, who stumbled while trying to catch it, and very nearly dropped it onto the floor.

“What is Mac and ‘Ronica’s deal with sparkling water, anyway?” Chandler grunted as she went back over to the bottle to place the lid back on and return it to the fridge. “They act like it’s the devil’s piss.”

Duke hardly heard her. She was too busy gazing at the water that Chandler had just tossed to her - a basic, decent gesture, one that happened while the two of them held a civil conversation that didn’t resort to any bickering whatsoever.

“...Are you  _ sure _ you’re not gonna faint again?” Chandler questioned. This time Duke did look up at her. “Because if so, you can just stay here and-”

“Isn’t this weird to you?” Duke blurted out. Chandler paused, looking down at her, confused.

“Weird? What is?”

“This.” Duke gestured between them. “Us. Just acting normal, like nothing’s wrong.”

Chandler arched a brow at her and leaned against the kitchen counter, then let out a sigh.

“It’s been like fifteen minutes and you already think it’s weird that we’re acting like friends?”

“But we’re  _ not _ acting like friends,” Duke retorted. “We’re acting like we’ve been perfectly okay this whole time, when we… we haven’t.”

Chandler’s shoulders slumped, and her brow furrowed as she seemed to get lost in thought. Duke simply stood there, waiting for a response.

“I thought you wanted that,” Chandler eventually muttered. “I thought you wanted to move on.”

Duke frowned. “I don’t want to pretend that our friendship didn’t become a complete shitshow. I want to acknowledge that and  _ fix it _ .”

Chandler’s mouth twitch and her arms moved their placement, seemingly in a discomforted manner. Duke let out a groan.

“Yeah, I know, that’s not exactly in your expertise, but you need to-”

“I  _ am _ trying to fix it!” Chandler suddenly shot back, cutting Duke off. “It’s not like I  _ wanted _ any of this to happen, you know. It just… did.”

Duke placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, I see, so this wasn’t your fault at all? Just fate, or some bullshit?”

“Not what I said,” she grumbled. “I just mean that I…” She bit her lip. “If I  _ could _ take it back, I would.”

“But you can’t.”

“ _ I know _ .” Her voice rose a little. “So if I can’t take it back, then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I’m giving you a chance to fix it, so I suggest you take it.”

“Yeah, I’m  _ trying _ ,” she spat, “you just don’t seem very happy about it.”

Duke let out a sigh. “I… I don’t know either-”

“Just great.”

“-But I  _ do _ know that I want you to be a friend, just not one who’s going to take advantage of me wanting to move on and try and forget that everything that happened  _ happened _ .”

Chandler pursed her lips and averted her eyes, slowly nodding in a way that made her seem like she was stepping into unknown territory, with how unwilling or on edge it seemed.

“Thanks.” When Chandler didn’t respond, Duke took a step forward. “No,  _ really _ , thank you.”

Chandler’s eyes finally fell on her, growing round with intrigue.

“I’m not saying I’m not happy that we can be… normal again,” she reassured her. “I’m just making sure we’re on the same page. Y’know, since we haven’t been for... a long time.”

Chandler’s bottom lip found itself caught beneath her tooth.

“Uh-huh,” she eventually sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she slowly nodded. “I get it.”

The corner of Duke’s mouth quirked up at that.

“I’m… I’m glad."

A moment of silence fell upon them, before Chandler clapped her hands together.

“Okay, enough of sentimental shit for the day, let’s go.” She strutted out of the kitchen, past Duke, looking quite eager to leave the serious atmosphere between them. Duke just gave an amused huff, before turning around and following her out the house.

 

* * *

“Is Veronica home?”

Chandler gave the most polite smile she could muster to Mrs Sawyer, who seemed quite surprised to see both her and Duke standing at her doorstep without being accompanied by either Mac or her daughter, because as the Heathers Lore goes, the Heathers themselves are an entity, and must always be together, otherwise they don’t exist. Or at least, that’s how it works in every outsider’s point of view.

“Oh, um, not yet, Heather! She should be coming back from school soon enough though.” She gave them both a curious look. “I would’ve thought you two would both be in school too.”

“No, we uh…” She glanced at Duke as she tried to think up of an explanation that wouldn’t be explaining Duke’s life story, and it seems Duke was doing the same, by the way she bit her lip as she thought up some excuse.

“We got to go home early!” Duke eventually said, grinning innocently. “Our last lesson was cancelled, so we got to leave.”

“Oh! I see.” Mrs Sawyer smiled, oblivious to the lie as she opened the door wider for them both. “Well, come on in. Veronica will be home soon enough.”

Chandler stepped inside and Duke gave a thank you as the door was held open for her, however stepping into the house caused the familiar scent of Veronica’s home to really hit Chandler. While it would usually cause comfort, this time it instead caused a feeling of dread to build up in her chest, and it only worsened when she heard the click of the door behind her.

“Would either one of you like a drink?” Mrs Sawyer asked as she lead them into the living room.

“No, we’re-” Chandler stopped herself as she glanced at Duke. “I mean,  _ I’m _ good.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” Duke added.

“Alright! Back door’s open if you’d like to go outside for croquet-”

“Definitely,” Chandler grunted, beginning to make her way towards the kitchen, walking right past Mrs Sawyer. She heard Duke give a sigh from behind her, though could tell that she was following her lead by the sound of her footsteps.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask!” she heard Mrs Sawyer call as she opened up the sliding glass door.

“I never  _ was _ afraid to ask,” Chandler retorted before stepping outside. Duke gave a sigh from behind her.

“And you wonder why Veronica’s parents don’t like us,” she grunted. Chandler arched a brow at her and scoffed.

“I’m not looking to be liked by any parents,” she said dryly as she made her way over to the shed to grab the croquet equipment. She glanced to Duke when she stopped in front of the entrance, and saw Duke’s mouth open as if she were going to say something, before it shut again, and she shook her head, as if shaking off a though. Chandler raised a brow curiously, but didn’t bother interrogating her.

“Oh, hey, the lawn’s already set out,” Duke then pointed out, gesturing to the croquet lawn before them. Chandler gave a relieved sigh - less work to do.

“Looks like we’ll have time for a round of our own,” she said, grabbing the green and red mallets from the shed and, without even thinking about it, tossed the green ball and mallet to Duke.

Just as she began to walk back to the lawn, Duke cleared her throat. She paused and looked at her, puzzled, up until she saw her snarkily grinning at her.

“What?” she questioned, though with how Duke’s eyes slid down to her red mallet and back up to eye level, she had already been brutally reminded of her dumb act of generosity earlier that day.

“Heather…” Duke sang in a sickeningly sweet tune, lashes batting at her innocently. Chandler pouted, irritated at how the guilt trip was getting to her so easily.

“Fuck me gently…” she muttered under her breath as she stepped towards Duke and held out her hands, mallet in one, ball in the other. “Okay, swap before I regret it.”

Duke snorted as she handed her the green mallet - the colour matching how poisonous it felt to hold the colour in her hand.

“From the looks of it, you already do.”

“Ha-ha, funny,” she grumbled as the two of them made their way back to the lawn, eyes glued to the red mallet being held by Duke. “Just don’t get it filthy, and maybe I’ll let this be more than a one-time thing.”

Duke’s eyes lit up for a second, before she shot her an odd look.

“Filthy? Heather, it’s a goddamn mallet.” She placed it on the ground and leaned on it.

“No, it’s my goddamn baby.”

“I guess I have custody now,” Duke said as she dropped her red ball onto the floor. Chandler forced herself to keep a straight face, though she couldn’t stop the exhale escaping her nose at the joke.

Their game lasted maybe twenty minutes or so - Chandler couldn’t be sure, as she stopped glancing at her swatch after a while, since her attention was too indulged in her game with Heather.

“As if you can make that shot,” Chandler jeered as Duke scampered over to her ball that had been hit far from the actual game. Duke eyed her, a bold glint in her gaze as she settled behind her ball and prepared her mallet to take a shot. Chandler simply watched with amusement and intrigue as the red painted mallet swung back and forth a few times, before one last  _ swing _ .

The red ball was flung across the lawn in her direction, making one bounce before it slammed into her own green ball. Stunned at the shot, Chandler stared at the ball for a second with widened eyes, before eventually looking up at Duke, who was giving her a smug grin from across the lawn. Seeing the expression made Chandler snap out of her admiration for her skill, and scoff at her.

“It was alright,” she grunted as she stepped towards her own ball. She heard Duke chortle.

“That’s your language for,  _ that was goddamn impressive _ .”

Unable to think up a good comeback, Chandler just cleared her throat as she prepared to take another shot. She very nearly placed her foot on the red ball by habit, though she was quick to catch her mistake and switched over to the green instead, keeping it still so that when she whacked it with her mallet, it flew forward a fair distance.

She watched it roll across the grass up until it stopped, and when it did, she took notice of more movement, this time coming from the patio. Curious, she looked up, and jolted in surprise when she locked eyes with Veronica, followed by Mac, who was loosely clinging onto the taller girl’s arm.

“Oh, uh, look who’s arrived,” she said, doing her best to not stumble over her words. But she couldn’t deny that spotting them both had caught her off guard.

“Uh-huh…” Veronica said with unease, slowly nodding as her dark mocha eyes darted back and forth between her and Duke.

“Hey, guys. How was school?” Duke chimed, coming to stand next to Chandler, grinning confidently. Chandler couldn’t say the same about herself.

“Fine,” Veronica replied.

“Quiet,” Mac said, almost at the same time as Veronica.

Duke huffed. “As it would be with no Queen Bee.” She elbowed Chandler lightly, though it was enough to make her jump in surprise, since all of her attention was focused on Veronica, who seemed to be switching back and forth between avoiding her gaze, and locking eyes with her to stare right into her goddamn skull.

Rather than facing the guilt that struck her each time they locked gazes, Chandler turned her attention to Mac, hoping that doing so would be more pleasant. However, in looking at how…  _ deflated _ she seemed, she couldn’t say it was any easier. If anything, seeing the dull look in her usually bright hazel eyes was upsetting.

“Did we miss anything?” Chandler asked, doing her best to make her tone sound chippy. Veronica didn’t respond, only looked away. Mac at least made an effort to make eye contact with her.

“No,” she replied, tone dry of emotion.

“Oh,” Chandler responded, disappointed at the simple answer.

A heavy silence then fell upon the group, with the exception of the occasional cough from Duke.

Eventually, Veronica spoke up.

“Um… I’m gonna go change,” she announced, pinching at the fabric of her blazer, one that definitely didn’t belong to her. None of the clothes she was currently wearing did, in fact. Chandler was pretty sure that the white crop top and turquoise blazer were owned by Mac, not Veronica.

_ Well, obviously. She slept over at her house because she didn’t want to spend another minute with me by herself. _ She winced as Veronica turned around and walked back into the house, and then turned to Mac, who still looked drained and somber. Nothing like her usual exuberant self.

“So… why weren’t you both at school?” Mac then asked, her voice quiet. She hesitantly stepped off the patio and onto the grass, arms cradled around herself in a protective and awkward manner.

“It’s a long story,” Duke spoke up walking over to her. “Don’t suppose you’d wanna hear it?” She gave an amused huff and smiled, nudging her with her elbow. Mac attempted to smile for about half a second before the corners of her mouth drooped yet again.

And while the sight did worry Chandler, she couldn’t tear her attention away from the door that Veronica had walked into. The thought of her coming back out again and having to interact with her as if last night never happened, as if Veronica wasn’t royally pissed at her right now, just didn’t seem appealing in the slightest.

“You okay, Heather?”

Duke’s voiced snapped her attention away from the door and towards her, and suddenly the epiphany hit her in locking eyes with her.

_ Talk to her, _ a voice in her head told her.  _ Get on the same page. _

“I… will be right back,” she announced, walking over to Duke. “Hold this.” She quickly shoved her mallet into Duke’s free hand, and without another word, she darted into the house, through the kitchen, and up the stairs. Her pace only slowed when she got to the top floor, nearing Veronica’s door.

In stopping outside her room, her brain had the audacity to remind her of the last time she was here, and she inhaled sharply as she shook the thought off. None of that now, she had to tell herself as she raised her hand, ready to knock on the door.

Just talk.

She knocked three times.

“Who is it?” An exasperated groan sounded from the other side.

“It’s Heather.”

“More specific please.”

Chandler frowned at the door. “Veronica, you  _ know _ it’s me, my voice is way deeper than Heather and Heather’s!”

A snort came from inside the room. “Yeah, I know, I’m just playing.” A pause. “Um, what do you want?” The amusement seemed to drain from her voice, replacing it with a more serious tone that made Chandler’s heart sink.

“To… uh... “ She licked her lips. “To talk.” She grabbed the door handle and was about to push it open. “Could you let me in-”

“ _ Don’t come in! _ ”

Veronica raising her voice made Chandler jolt away from the handle and give a confused look at the door.

“Why?”

“I, uh… I’m naked.”

Chandler gave a huff and rolled her eyes.

“As if that’s going to stop me.”  _ Not that it tempts me more or anything. _ “I’ve seen you naked before, y’know.”

She heard Veronica clear her throat. “Yeah, well, just wait there for a minute.”

Chandler gave an impatient sigh and leaned against the wall, tapping her finger on her arm as she stared at the wall opposite her, while listening to Veronica stumbling around in her room. She was curious to why she was unable to enter the room, but decided against questioning her further in favour of wanting to get this dumb conversation over and done with.

“You done yet?” she eventually called after a while.

“Uh…” A pause. “Yeah, you can come in now.”

She gave a relieved sigh, before finally pushing the door open and letting herself in. She caught a familiar whiff of coffee interlaced with the scent of wisteria as she stepped inside, one she hadn’t been aware of missing until she reunited with it.

“What do you want?” Veronica’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her turn her head towards her. She couldn’t decide whether to describe her heart as skipping a beat in seeing her in a grey and white striped t-shirt and tight black skirt, or as sinking with dread in making eye contact with her dulled brown gaze. She settled on describing her heart as doing nothing to make things easier on herself.

“Um… I came to… uh…” She bit her tongue as she tried to cough up the strength to say the word, which would be much easier to say had Veronica just been unconscious.

“Came to what?”

_ Came to you. _

Heather blinked.

_ Heather, stay on task you fucking dyke. _

“I came to apologise,” she finally spat out, almost shuddering at the idea of letting someone else hear those words leave her mouth. “For last night,” she clarified.

She dared to peek at Veronica’s expression, dreading what her reaction could possibly be. She locked eyes with widened eyes, looking surprised, though not as shocked as anyone else would be if they heard the exact same words leave her lips. Perhaps it was because she’d already broken down that barrier in front of Veronica before, so shock value was fading rapidly.

“Oh,” Veronica eventually spoke, biting her lip. “Well, um…” Her eyes flickered back and forth, conflict visible in her gaze. Eventually, she just let out a long sigh and went over to drop onto her bed, back hunched over as she stared at the floor. Heather frowned.

“I take it the apology wasn’t accepted.”

“Well… no.” Veronica stared up at her helplessly. “I… I can’t just  _ accept _ that, Heather-”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Veronica echoed, straightening herself up as her brow furrowed. “How about the fact that apologising to me isn’t going to fix anything?” Her gaze drifted over to her window, and while Duke wasn’t in eyeshot from where she sat, Heather could still tell what she meant.

“Well, no,” Heather admitted, sauntering over to the bed. “That’s why you weren’t the first one I apologised to.” She stopped next to Veronica, who paused, before shifting over to the side, giving her enough room to sit. She sat down, shoulders brushing and making her swallow.

“What do you mean?” Veronica asked. Heather bit her lip.

“Okay, um…” She tapped her finger anxiously. “Do you want the long version, or the short version?”

Veronica gave a confused, yet curious look. “...Both?”

Heather sharply exhaled. “Okay, short version: I apologised to Heather and I took her to the doctor.”

Veronica’s lashes fluttered at her, and she slowly nodded.

“Long version: I tricked Heather into coming to the doctors so she got really pissed and almost crashed the car when trying to stop it, then I had to chase her through the woods and we got into a big argument. We were both crying a bunch and then Heather fainted - I actually thought she was dead at first, so it was pretty scary.”

Veronica’s expression seemed to be stuck on dumbfounded, which prompted Heather to continue.

“It was fine though. I carried her back to the car since there was no way in hell I was going to sit there on the ground, in the rain while waiting for her to wake up, and when she did we had a nice long talk and she agreed to go to the doctor with me. So it was  _ fine _ .” She gave a thumbs up. “No dragging her into the building by the wrist was needed.”

Veronica continued to deadpan at her, mouth open in preparation to speak, though no words came out for maybe twenty seconds, if not more. Heather just pursed her lips and waited for some sort of response.

“You  _ tricked _ her into going to the doctor?” she eventually said. Heather slowly nodded.

“Mhmm.”

“Heather, has anyone ever told you that you’re an actual dumbass?”

Heather frowned. “Well, they have now.”

“What the actual hell were you thinking?” Veronica leaned forward, her face awestruck by what Heather could only assume was her stupidity. She crossed her arms and pouted.

“Look, I get  _ now _ that it wasn’t the best idea-”

“Yeah, no shit!”

“But I didn’t know that at the time!”

Veronica blinked at her a few times, jaw hanging open, before speaking again.

“Heather, what part of you thought Heather  _ wouldn’t _ be mad about that?”

Chandler shrugged.

“Did you just imagine dragging her to the doctor and expect her to be okay with it afterwards?”

“Well, no, I guess not.” She tore her gaze away from her. “But in my defense, it worked in the end, so…” She glimpsed back at her, the corner of her mouth picking up. Veronica stared at her for a moment, mouth open as she tried to think up a response, but none came, leaving Heather another opportunity to speak. “I’m allowed to be smug about it, aren’t I?”

Veronica’s brows knitted. “No.”

Chandler then held up her hand and created a narrow gap between her finger and thumb. “Just a little bit?”

Veronica pursed her lips, and on closer observation, which was not at all happening because Heather missed Veronica’s lips in the slightest, she saw that she was attempting to pin the corners of her mouth in place and failing to avoid smiling. Heather forgot to hold back an amused snort.

“So you agree?”

Veronica cleared her throat before speaking again, and her face warped into one of seriousness.

“I’m…  _ thankful _ that it worked,” she began. “I’m surprised it did, but…” She bit her lip, her hands falling onto her lap and her gaze dropping. “So long as Heather’s okay.” Her eyes drifted over to the window. “Or,  _ will _ be okay.”

Chandler’s mouth slowly curled into a smile as she listened, one formed out of some sort of warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest which had been ignited in hearing gratefulness. It’s not like she hadn’t felt such a feeling before - it’s not the first time someone had been grateful for her. But the last time she felt it, exactly, she couldn’t remember.

She didn’t get a chance to express the feeling, however, since Veronica lifted her head to look at her again, then wrapped her arms around Chandler in a tight hug. Chandler grunted in surprise, her arms hovering aimlessly and her face heating up with each heartbeat, which just so happened to become more rapid.

“Uh… what’s this for?”

“Just a… a thank you,” Veronica murmured against her ear. “For helping her, I mean.”

Chandler let out a huff. “I’d say ‘it was no problem,’ but today was  _ far _ from easy.”

Veronica gave a chuckle. “I’d imagine so.” She lifted her head off her shoulder to look at her, though her arms stayed where they were. “And I’m glad she’s finally getting help, but I’m also glad you  _ did _ something.” A wide grin spread across her face, one that was almost contagious.

“Yeah, well.” Chandler shrugged again, her gaze shying away from Veronica’s. “I probably wouldn’t have if you didn’t…”

Veronica’s smile dropped for a moment. “Heather, I’m sorry that I-”

“No, shut up,” she commanded, placing a finger on her lips to silence her, and for no other reason. “I mean, fuck you for yelling at me and making me feel bad, but also thank you for yelling at me and making me feel bad, because I really needed to feel bad.”

Veronica snickered, and Heather stole her hand back. “Okay, true,” she said. “I just felt kinda bad that I said you didn’t care about her after today.”

Chandler arched a brow. “How come?”

She sniggered. “Oh, Mara was telling me all sorts of stories about you both while you were gone.”

Chandler widened her eyes. “Oh, God, don’t tell me she was-”

“She was saying how you both had this little book club together? Because you’re both bookworms.”

Chandler scoffed at her, then gestured towards the bookshelf. “ _ You’re _ a bookworm!”

“And how you two went to the park to buy ice cream, then you’d go play in the woods or go on the swings?”

Chandler felt her face heat up yet again, this time from embarrassment. “That meant  _ nothing _ -”

Veronica then let out a laugh. “Oh, and she told me about this one time she was swinging too high, and you were really worried-”

“I’m going to murder Mac.”

“-And then Heather told her to jump, and she did, and she hurt her leg?” She tried to control her laughter by covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “And you got really mad at her!”

Chandler simply sank into her hands and let out a long groan. Veronica simply laughed at her misery.

“Remind me to never leave you two alone again,” Chandler snarled, leering at her from over the top of her hands. Veronica let out a huff, before clearing her throat.

“Uh, yeah, hm.” She looked away, before standing up. “Though, speaking of which, should we…” Her voice faded as she walked across her room and over to the window.

“Should we what?” Heather stood up too and followed her over to her window.

“I was going to say, should we go outside, but it seems they’re having a bit of a moment.”

Chandler stopped in front of the window, almost forgetting to not place her hands on the window sill covered in cacti succulents, and peered out to spot Duke and Mac, having what Veronica rightfully described as ‘a moment’.

“Eh, they’ll be done with it once we go back down,” Chandler stated, gesturing Veronica to follow her as she made her way over to the door. She heard Veronica give a huff, followed by footsteps that told her she was indeed following close behind.

 

* * *

Duke stood in the middle of the lawn, having been left alone with McNamara for about a minute or so, and already feeling the weight of the situation crush her. Had she not been fully aware of Chandler’s need to fix things with Veronica, she would have cursed her for abandoning her.

So far, nothing had been said. Mainly because Duke wasn’t willing to say anything that would lead into a difficult conversation, and she was sure that it was the same for McNamara. Still, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from her as she twirled her mallet around in its place.

Eventually, a voice in her head spoke up,

_ Heather, for fuck’s sake, if Heather Chandler can woman up and apologise to Veronica,  _ you _ should be able to talk to Heather! _ She let out a sigh.  _ I haven’t even done anything  _ wrong _ , really, I’m just… _ She gazed at the blonde, and could almost feel the solemness being emitted from her.  _ I don’t know, I guess I feel bad. She’s been worrying about me for all this time, and I ignored it. _

She stared at the grass she stood on, grimacing.

_ But… she won’t need to worry anymore, will she? _ She dared to lift her head again, and managed to catch Heather in the act of looking over to her, if not for a split second. It was then when Duke felt a spark of courage ignite within her.

_ Just talk to her, you fucking pussy. _

“Be glad you didn’t have to spend a whole day with Heather today,” she began, forcing a smile. “You two were fucking lucky, being able to have a day to yourselves.”

McNamara glanced over to her, hazel eyes looking unsure, though she let out a huff that could only be described as forced.

“Yeah.”

Duke’s smile dropped at the flat tone that left her mouth.

“So, uh, did we miss anything?” She sauntered over to her, keeping her tone sounding as peppy as she could.

McNamara shrugged. “Not really.”

Duke bit her lip. “Oh. Um, guess it’s good we didn’t miss out on anything then?”

McNamara licked her lips. “Sure.”

Duke’s shoulders slumped, feeling at a loss for words.

_ Okay so, normal conversation isn’t going to work. _ She internally groaned.

“Well, um, we may have not missed anything, but…” She clenched her jaw. “You two might have.”

McNamara raised her brow at her. “Like what?”

Duke awkwardly smiled. “Do you want to know where we were today?”   


Curiosity seemed to seep into McNamara’s gaze. “Okay?”

Duke let out a nervous laugh. “Well, um, it’s pretty funny, actually,” she began, frantically trying to gather the right words together. “The plan was to ditch school and go to the mall. Maybe buy a birthday present for me or whatever.”

McNamara gave a nod. “Uh-huh.”

Duke then made a sound that sounded like a mixture of a laugh and a cough. “Well that  _ didn’t _ happen. No, uh, Heather had other plans.”

McNamara tilted her head, while Duke tried to think up a way to summarise today’s events as best as she could in a short amount of time. But the further she searched, the more she felt like she had to explain, and it seemed near impossible to cut it down to a simple form.

“Okay, look,” she eventually sighed. “I’m not going to go through what happened today.  _ A lot _ happened, but none of that matters right now.” She placed both her mallets in one hand, freeing the other. “All you need to know is… I’m getting help, Emmy.”

_ FUCK! Why did I just use that fucking name? It’s so fucking childish- _

“Wh-what?” McNamara’s voice was suddenly brought to life, and her eyes widened and the mallet dropped out her hand when she stepped closer, until their faces were inches apart. Duke didn’t bother internally cursing the fact that she appeared smaller than her without her heels, and instead focused on repeating what she said.

“Heather took me to the doctor,” she confessed. “It was a lot of effort, duh. I didn’t want to go.” She bit her lip. “I really,  _ really _ didn’t want to go, but I did.”

McNamara just stared at her, bewildered, but said nothing. Perhaps she was too stunned.

“So you don’t need to worry anymore, okay?” Her gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m gonna get better. So no more crying for me - I’m gonna be fine, alright?”

For a moment, a heavy silence fell on them both. Duke peered at her nervously, waiting for some sort of reaction or response. But for the next few moments, McNamara just stood there, unmoving and wide-eyed.

Duke pursed her lips. “Y’know, you can give some sort of input if you wa-  _ OW! _ ”

McNamara punching her arm made her yelp and drop the mallets, and rub where she was hit.

“The fuck was that for, you pillowcase?” she snapped. McNamara winced.

“Sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be that hard.” She patted her arm apologetically. “I got excited as well as angry.”

Duke gave a befuddled look.

“It’s just… okay,  _ one _ , don’t tell me to not worry about you!” Duke suddenly found herself in a bone-crushing hug which instantly made her body feel warm, probably because McNamara was a literal embodiment of a ray of sunshine. “And two,” she continued, lifting her head up to lock eyes with her, her speckled irises sparkling with hope, “I’m glad. Relieved, even.  _ So _ fucking relieved.” Though her lips curled into a smile, the corners of her eyes creased, and Duke could recognize the worry in her gaze. “I was so worried for you! I never thought you’d get help. I thought you were going to-”

“I know, I know.” She covered her mouth with her palm. “And I’m sorry I worried you, I just-”

“Don’t be sorry!” she interrupted, throwing her hand off. “Don’t say sorry for anything! Just…” Her hands found Duke’s, and she wrapped her fingers around them, and perhaps it was the feeling of comfort, perhaps it was relief, or something else she couldn’t name, but her heart seemed to stop, just for a second. “Let me help you? Because I know you didn’t just get better overnight.”

Duke grimaced. “Yeah, that’s the thing-”

“I’ll help you through it, okay?” she assured her, determination in her gaze. “As best as I can, anyway.”

Duke just couldn’t hold back the stupid grin forming on her lips.

“If it makes you stop worrying about me, then sure.”

McNamara smiled. “People are allowed to be worried about you, y’know.” She felt her link her hands together so that they were locked around her neck, though the grip was gentle. “That’s how you know they care, isn’t it?”

Duke let out a warm chuckle. “I… yeah. Yeah, it is.”

McNamara giggled too, one sweeter than honey, before she tugged her back in for another embrace. This time Duke reciprocated, wrapping her own arms around her torso and burying her face into her shoulder. And just for a moment, she was convinced that everything was fine, despite knowing how much shit she’d get when her parents would be contacted by the doctors. Despite knowing how long it’ll take for her to get over this stupid disorder. Despite knowing how steep this fucking hill was going to be, and how short her legs were. Feeling someone hold her close and tell her she wasn’t going to make that climb alone was enough to reassure her.

It would be enough to drag her back onto her feet if she- no,  _ when _ she would inevitably fall. Knowing that was enough to convince herself to keep going, because the journey wasn’t going to last forever, and no matter how much it may hurt at the beginning, she was going to get better at it.

“Heather, I told you not to get my mallet dirty!”

Chandler’s voice made her jolt away from McNamara as if she had been electrified, and McNamara simply giggled at her reaction, which was echoed by Veronica, who came up close behind Chandler.

“And I told  _ you _ that it getting dirty was inevitable,” she retorted as she picked them both up off the ground. Chandler stopped a few steps away from her and pouted at the bits of mud stuck to the side, her face scrunching up in disgust when she had to get her hands dirty when being given the mallet.

“Oh, uh, wrong mallet, Heather,” McNamara pointed out, pointing towards the green mallet in Chandler’s hand. Chandler just huffed at her.

“Not for today, it isn’t.”

McNamara widened her eyes, and Veronica audibly gasped.

“Heather Chandler? Giving up her  _ red mallet? _ ” She placed a hand on her forehead and stumbled backwards. “Mara, catch me, I’m gonna faint from the shock.”

McNamara, just after grabbing her own mallet, darted behind Veronica and placed her hands firmly on her shoulders. Veronica laughed.

“Calm your tits, it’s just a mallet,” Chandler muttered.

Duke snorted. “I thought it was your baby.”   


“ _ You’re babysitting! _ ”

“Will you still pay me after dropping your baby?” she asked. “It was an accident, I swear.”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “I just won’t give you a tip.”

Duke gaped at her. “ _ Rude _ .”

“You dropped my child!”

Duke just deadpanned at her, while her hand swung the red mallet back and forth, before releasing it, letting it fly across the lawn and landing on the floor a few feet away. Chandler just gasped as it hit the ground.

“You just  _ threw _ my baby!”

Duke batted her lashes at her innocently, and just as she was about to make another snarky remark, Mrs Sawyer stepped onto the patio with a plate in her hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, girls! I was just wondering if any of your wanted some  pâté ?”

“Me!” Veronica declared, waving her hand in the air before bounding over to her mother.

“I do!” McNamara added, following Veronica.

“Pass on the liverwurst,” Chandler grunted as she walked over to her mallet to pick it off the ground.

Duke’s attention, however, was drawn back to the plate in Mrs Sawyer’s hands. Specifically the bite-sized pieces of liverwurst resting on the plate. The sight of it was a cruel reminder of how empty her stomach was, as every piece of food she saw was.

And yet, this time it felt different.

Because unlike every other time, she wasn’t trying to run away from food anymore. She wasn’t going to let that consume her life anymore.

But that was only going to happen if she took that first step up the mountain, even if it was tiny.

“Uh- me!” she blurted out, making Mrs Sawyer stop in her tracks in walking back towards the kitchen, and everyone else look towards her in surprise. “I’ll have some, I mean.”

“Oh, of course, Heather dear!” Mrs Sawyer gave her a friendly smile as she held out the plate towards her, and Duke hesitantly approached it, taking the smallest piece from the tray that she could find, and even then was tempted to just break it in half to make it easier.

Regardless of her urges, she resisted, and just shoved it into her mouth, not giving herself the opportunity to back out last minute.

The taste itself was actually good, once she actually stopped to appreciate it. Swallowing it was the hardest part. Despite it being so small, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d just gained a few pounds from such a little piece.

And it was only after she swallowed it did she remember to thank Mrs Sawyer, who simply smiled at her gratefully before returning to the house.

Ignoring the feeling of her stomach feeling a little more full, her gaze drifted over to Veronica and McNamara, who were just smiling at her. McNamara in particular seemed to have an excited glint in her eye.

It may have not felt good to swallow anything, but it certainly felt good to be able to spark some hope in the few people who she could actually call her friends.

It was enough to make her want to take another bite, purely to reassure them that she was fine.

“Hey, are we playing croquet or not?” she suddenly heard Chandler call from across the lawn. The three of them turned towards her and voiced their acknowledgement, making their way over to her.

Duke hardly noticed Chandler walk up to her, only realising when she was lightly nudged on the arm. She glanced at her, and saw she was holding out her mallet towards her. She gave a grateful smile and took hold of it, and was about to return to the red ball when she was gently shoved by Chandler. She looked up at her curiously, and was surprised to see a genuine smile on her face, eyes glimmering with what she could only assume was pride. Duke had to pause to look at her for a moment, admiring the feeling of Chandler gazing down at her with a warm gaze, one so different to the usual coldness she had to deal with before today.

“Oh, hey, Heather,” Veronica’s voice snapped her gaze away from Chandler.

“Mhmm?”

She was surprised to see a look of worry in her eye.

“I, uh…” Her voice trailed off as she scurried over to her and nudged her forward, away from Chandler and further from earshot.

“What?” Duke grunted.

Veronica gazed down at her, biting her lip.

“I just- I just wanted to say sorry.”

Duke furrowed her brow, staring up at her in confusion.

“You? Sorry?” She scoffed in disbelief. “For what?”

A guilty expression crawled onto Veronica’s face. “What you said yesterday. I honestly didn’t know what you were referring to.” She averted her gaze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you could’ve meant and… well, I figured it out, and…” She inhaled deeply. “Yeah, what I said was pretty shit.”

Duke blinked at her, trying to think of what she was talking about, until she thought back to last night, and it finally clicked.

“Oh,  _ that _ ,” she said. “Yeah, I agree, that  _ was _ shitty.”

Veronica’s shoulders tensed, and she winced.

Duke let out a sigh. “But, to be fair, so was giving you the finger after helping me get away from Ram,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly.

For a moment, Veronica’s eyes widened, as if she were surprised to hear an apology come out of her mouth. Then she just let out a sad huff.

“Well, sure, but I shouldn’t have said  _ that _ .” She grimaced and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I was drunk, and I guess we just weren’t that close anyway, so for whatever reason I said it, and-”

“Hey, chill,” Duke cut in. “Thanks for saying sorry and all, but honestly don’t bother worrying about it. I’m not as mad as I made myself out to be last night.” She brushed her hand off her shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. “I was just… pissed at everything, so I just lashed out at you, I guess.”

Veronica gave a huff of laughter. “I mean, fair enough.” She gave a half-smile. “Still, I should apologise for what I said.”

“Tch.” Duke rolled her eyes. “Then I apologise for not appreciating your help.”

“Eh.” Veronica shrugged as they turned back towards the lawn and began to saunter towards Heather and Heather. “We’ve made up for it with our collective hatred for Kurt and Ram, I’d say.”

“You make a good point, Sawyer.”

“And also!” Veronica chimed. “What day are we meeting for birthday presents?”

“Sunday, so you better have one ready for then,” she replied, grinning.

“Aw, still don’t have a present, Sawyer?” Chandler called from across the lawn. Veronica pouted at her.

“You don’t either!”

“Uh, yeah I do,” Chandler chortled. Veronica gaped at her.

“What? Since when?”

“Since today. You’re on your own, loser.” She created an ‘L’ with her hand and held it up on her forehead. Veronica just pulled her tongue at her, leaving Chandler cackling.

Duke just scoffed. “Okay, enough talk. We playing or what?”

“I’ve been waiting for about twenty minutes,” McNamara stated, holding her mallet up in preparation.

“You’re so impatient,” Chandler grunted. Veronica let out a scoff.

“Don’t you slam on your car horn to get us to get to your car quicker?”

Chandler frowned.

“Shut up, Sawyer.”

 

* * *

Heather, Heather and Veronica all scrambled out of the car, each of them holding their own gift bags, all coloured appropriately. Mac’s was yellow with white polka dots - brightly coloured to match her personality. Veronica’s was much cooler - blue with lighter shades in the shapes of gentle waves.

Chandler’s own was red and covered in sequins, each of them shimmering like stars. The bags themselves were unnecessary, considering the presents themselves were wrapped up, but there was nothing wrong with an extra touch.

As Chandler led the way up to Duke’s front door, she couldn’t help but think that the last time she saw her, she was seventeen. Now? She was legally an adult, and she had been for a full day.

She rang the doorbell, and couldn’t help but wish that they had been able to visit her yesterday, on her  _ actual _ birthday, but alas, her parents decided to hog her all for themselves. God knows why - as if her parents had given two flying shits about their daughter.

And after the most recent events, she couldn’t imagine they’d be acting any nicer any time soon.

The sound of the door in front of her clicking snapped her out of her thoughts, and she was relieved to not have to face Mr or Mrs Duke, or Hayden or Hunter, but Heather herself.

“Who the fuck invited you losers?” she jeered playfully, before opening the door wider.

“Heather!” McNamara exclaimed, launching herself onto her into a tight hug. Duke yelped in surprise, and Chandler let out a chuckle.

“Yeah,  _ hi _ , Heather,” she breathed, before shoving her off. McNamara giggled.

“Sorry, I’m just excited!” she squealed. “You’re eighteen! An  _ adult _ !”

“I can’t buy alcohol legally, so what’s the point,” Duke whined, though the smile gave away the fact that she was joking. For the most part, anyway. “Also, shoes off, I don’t know where you’ve been.” She gestured to their feet.

“Also, I know we all called you yesterday and said happy birthday, but I thought I might as well do it in person too,” Veronica added, smiling as she followed Chandler and Mac into the house. “So, uh, happy eighteenth?” She slipped off her shoes as she spoke.

“Happy eighteenth!” McNamara added, dropping her flats next to Veronica’s.

“Congrats on being able to legally get your nipples pierced,” Chandler also said as she kicked her heels off, which prompted Duke to stare at her.

“I nearly fainted when I got my  _ lobes _ pierced, you honestly think that’s going to happen?”

“No, I’m just kidding you,” she laughed.

“Yeah, I’d fucking hope so,” she muttered as she led them into the living room. Chandler glanced around the large room, seeing it was empty, aside from the four of them standing in the middle of it.

“Where’s your shitty family?” Chandler asked dryly.

“Heather!” Veronica scolded her, to which Duke laughed at.

“Don’t worry, V, she’s allowed to say that.” She dropped onto the couch. “My family are indeed, shit.”

Chandler gave a look of victory to Veronica, who just looked concerned by the statement sounding so casual.

“Speaking of which,” Mac spoke up, sitting down next to Duke. “Do they know yet?”

Duke let out a long sigh, her chin dropping onto her hands. “They got a call this morning. I only know because I overheard them talking about it.”

Mac let out a gasp, placing a hand on her thigh. “What did they say?”

Duke gritted her teeth and scrunched up her nose, an obvious sign that the answer was “nothing good.”

“Shit,” Veronica murmured. “Sorry about that.”

Duke just shrugged. “I expected no less.” She glanced around the room. “Though, luckily for us, they’re having a family’s day out, and I was able to stay behind since I told them in advance you guys were coming.”

“Glad we could help,” Chandler grunted. Duke just let out a scoff.

“So, your family isn’t here?” Veronica asked.

“House is all ours.”

When looking over in Veronica’s direction, Chandler spotted movement in the doorway. The ajar door was pushed open slightly, and from it came a large four-legged figure. Chandler grinned.

“Well, ours and  _ his _ ,” she said. Veronica glanced at her curiously.

“Whose? I thought everyone was out-” Just as she finished her sentence, the large tibetan mastiff had managed to trot over to her and shove his nose into her hand, causing her to pause in confusion. “What was-” she looked down at the dog, “- _ FUCK! _ ”

Her scream made Chandler flinch, and the brunette darting around her and gripping her by the shoulders, crouching down slightly behind her, holding her like some sort of shield. The reaction was so unexpected that, once she recovered from the raised volume, Chandler burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, ‘Ronica, calm your tits!” she managed to say through her cackles. “It’s just Heather’s dog!”

She tilted her head to the side so that Veronica had a better view of the mastiff, who was simply staring up at them both with big, confused eyes, and whose tail was wagging back and forth in a friendly manner. The face of an adorable puppy stitched onto the body of a bear.

“Yeah, it’s Bubbies!” Mac exclaimed, leaping off the couch to go and kneel next to Bear and give him a hug, sinking into his brown and black fur in the process.

“That’s not a  _ dog _ , that’s a  _ fucking lion! _ ” Veronica retorted, her voice quivering and her grip on Chandler’s shoulders tightening. She couldn’t really complain about that.

“That’s a tibetan mastiff, actually,” Duke corrected. “And his name is Bear, so not really a lion either.”

“ _ Still! _ ” Veronica spat, backing away from the dog and taking Chandler with her.

“Veronica, you’ve been here before! Why are you acting so shocked?” Chandler questioned, shooting her an odd look.

“I’ve never seen him before in my life!” Veronica replied, voice still quaking with fear.

“Ronnie, are you alright?” Mac called. “You seem a little shaken up.”

“ _ No shit _ ,” Veronica shot back, finally stopping in her tracks when her back was almost pressed up against the far wall.

“V, are you actually scared of my dog?” Duke jeered, laughing. “He’s a big teddy bear!”

Veronica just let out a whimper, causing Chandler to let out a sigh and finally turn around to face her.

“Really, what’s up?” she asked, lowering her voice. Veronica stared at her pleadingly.

“Sorry, I’m sure he’s friendly and everything, but-” she peeked at him for a brief moment and let out a sharp gasp. “I have a pretty intense fear of dogs, so I’m just a little bit…” She held up her hand, and Chandler was surprised to see it visibly shaking. She frowned, and without even thinking, took hold of the hand in an attempt to still it.

“We didn’t know.”

“I know,” Veronica sighed. “If I knew Heather had such a big fucking dog I would’ve said something, but I had no idea.”

Chandler rolled her eyes fondly, before looking back over to Duke.

“Okay, change of plan. We’re moving the ritual to upstairs.”

“Ritual?” Mac questioned, her face half-buried in Bear’s fur.

“She means present-giving,” Duke clarified, before standing up. “Okay, fine. Let’s move out.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Veronica sighed. Chandler wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard her so relieved. She let out a laugh, and refused to let go of her hand until she successfully guided her around Bear and into the corridor. She almost forgot to release her hand when they were out, and when she did, it felt empty.

They both then waited for Duke and Mac to leave the room. Mac came out first and gave Veronica a quick hug and whispered something reassuring in her ear, followed by Duke slipping out the small opening she had made in the doorway. Just before she closed it, she turned around and patted Bear on the head, since he’d followed her to the door.

“See ya later, Buddy,” she cooed. “Sorry, we gotta make sure you don’t kill Veronica.”

Veronica frowned at Duke as she closed the door.

“I’ll have you know that a dog attacked me when I was younger,” she stated as they made their way over to the stairs. “I don’t even remember it, but I’ve been scared of dogs ever since.”

Chandler glanced at her curiously.

“Something bad happened to you and you don’t even remember it?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know, it sounds dumb.”

Chandler pursed her lips as she climbed the stairs.

“Not really, no.”

She glimpsed back at Veronica for a moment, who looked confused, but she didn’t have time to say anything else, since they were soon enough at the top of the stairs, and found themselves in Heather’s room.

“Is that better now, Veronica?” Mac asked as they made their way over to the bed. Veronica nodded, though in glancing at her hands, Chandler could see she was still shaking.

“Fine. I’ll be fine,” she assured her.  Mac paused at the foot of the bed and gave her another quick hug, to which Veronica let out a giggle and reciprocated. Seeing it caused a slight twinge in Chandler’s chest, as if she wished it was her embracing Veronica rather than Mac.

But the hug, as well as her thoughts were over soon enough, in favour of the four of them hopping onto Duke’s bed and placing their gift bags in front of them.

As expected, Duke sat at the head of the bed, her eyes wandering over her gifts.

“Okay, who’s first?” Duke asked, holding out a hand.

Chandler pulled the bag closer. “Not me, I’m going last.” A smirk threatened to break through as Duke arched a brow at her.

“Oh, why’s that? Best ‘til last or some shit?” she scoffed.

“Yes, exactly.”

Veronica gave a snort. “Cocky.”

Chandler shot her a smug grin. “I think I’m allowed to be cocky.”

“Does this mean we can call this a contest?” Mac asked, grinning. Duke rolled her eyes.

“No, we’re not doing that just because Heather’s suddenly confident about her present.”

Mac gave a pout, accompanied with large, dark puppy eyes. Duke fluttered her lashes at her, furrowing her brow.

“Fucking hell,  _ fine _ ,” Duke groaned. “Now who’s first?”

Mac grinned, squirming in excitement as she pushed her bag towards her. Duke gave a sigh as she took hold of it.

“You first, then.” She opened it up and pulled out what appeared to be a box wrapped in golden paper with a matching bow. The group watched her tear the paper as neatly as she could, to the point where it was slightly irritating.

“Why do you have to be so  _ neat _ ?” Chandler groaned impatiently, wrapping the handles of her own gift bag around her finger absentmindedly. Duke snorted.

“Thanks, you’re pretty neat too,” she replied as she pulled a small, dark brown box out of the wrapping paper. Chandler let out a huff, but said nothing as her attention was drawn to Heather opening the box. From behind th flipped lid, she pulled out a what seemed to be a white necklace decorated with green gemstones. The front held larger stones surrounded by smaller gems, as well as the narrower part of the necklace.

“Read the note,” Mac then said, pointing to the box that Duke had placed on the bed. Duke dragged her gaze away from the necklace and looked back down at it, then picked up a slip of paper.

“Before you say anything, I know the name is cruelly ironic,” Mac clarified, shifting closer to Duke, who snickered.

“Only Heather McNamara would get a bulimic a necklace made out of a gemstone called  _ apatite _ ,” she said. Both Veronica and Chandler turned their heads towards the blonde, who winced.

“Fucking hell, Mac!” Chandler exclaimed.

“I have my  _ reasons _ !” Mac retorted, shuffling over beside Duke. “Just read the note.”

“I am,” Duke stated, her green irises moving back and forth over the note, before she lowered it onto her lap and looked at Mac, a smile crawling onto her lips. “Thanks, Emmy.” Just as the nickname left her mouth, her hands shot up to her mouth, and Chandler let out a brief cackle before covering her own mouth to stop herself from laughing.

“Emmy?” Veronica echoed.

“I should stop saying that,” Duke muttered into her hands. Mac let out a sweet giggle.

“No! I’ve missed that nickname,” she said, smiling. Duke paused, before slowly moving her hands away from her mouth.

“It’s very adorable, I just didn’t expect to hear it from your mouth,” Veronica added, before holding out her hand. “Can I read the note?”

Duke just sighed, before placing it into her palm. Veronica gave a smile, before pulling it towards her. Chandler, curious, also went to hover over her shoulder to read it, but unfortunately, even after all the years she’d known Mac, she still couldn’t read her goddamn handwriting.

_ Green Apatite. A gem used to soothe… neves? No, nerves... and stress, and helps blance? Fuck, balance- is this my dyslexia’s fault or is her handwriting just that bad? _

“Mac, I can’t read your handwriting,” she groaned. Duke gave an amused huff, before stealing back the note and clearing her throat.

“Green Apatite. A gem used to soothe nerves and stress, and helps balance out the heart and mind.” She paused, and the clear reading voice she was using became softer as she said, “It is also associated with healing eating disorders, such as binge eating and bulimia.” The corner of her mouth quirked up for a second. “I don’t actually think it’ll heal you. That’s bullshit. But I hope it acts as a reminder that I want you to get better, Heather. I know it’ll be rough recovering, so if you’re ever in doubt, or tempted to give up, just hold onto it. Even if there are no spiritual properties, you might get  _ something _ out of it.”

There was a brief silence between them, as if no one knew how to process or express genuine emotion, care or concern. Perhaps it was because this friendship group couldn’t.

The silence was broken by Mac, who grabbed the necklace from Duke’s lap.

“I can put it on you, if you want,” she offered, smiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Duke replied, pulling up the loose hair covering the back of her neck. Mac shuffled around her to hook the necklace around her neck and fascine it at the back.

“It looks great!” Veronica commented.

“It suits you,” Chandler said. Duke looked down at the necklace and smiled.

“I have to agree,” she murmured. Then, from behind her, Mac leaned to her side, caught Chandler’s eye, and held up her hands, and began to sign,

_ “Good luck beating that,” _ followed by a wink. Chandler just gaped at her, before signing back,

_ “I don’t need any luck, bitch.” _

Mac pouted at her, before quickly crawling back to her place by Veronica, holding a neutral expression to pretend as if that interaction never happened. Chandler simply tried to hold back her laughter.

“Okay, Veronica next,” Chandler then said, patting her on the shoulder. Veronica gave a nod, and handed over her gift bag to Duke, who took a glimpse inside, before tipping it out onto the bed. A small black box tipped out, smaller than Mac’s.

“Thanks for the boxes, guys,” she said with a chuckle, before dropping the bag and flipping open the lid. “Well, isn’t this fitting?” She picked up a bracelet of white and green colours, coincidentally matching the necklace. At a closer look, Chandler could see that the green formed plant-like shapes, and shimmered under the light.

“The colours were a coincidence,” Veronica said.

“I can’t complain. It’s satisfying,” Duke said as she wrapped the bracelet around her wrist. As soon as she clipped it on, she looked up at Veronica with a curious glint in her eye. “Was the bracelet idea done on purpose?”

Chandler glanced at Veronica who seemed to have paused for a second. Her mouth hung open for a moment, before Duke spoke again.

“As in, did you know Heather was getting me a necklace?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Veronica finally said, her shoulders relaxing. “No, it’s yet another coincidence.”

Duke then turned towards Chandler. “If your present isn’t an accessory I will be very disappointed.”

Chandler let out a chortle. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” She shoved the bag towards her, giving a confident grin as Duke took a hold of the handles and parted them to look inside.

She thought that the confident feeling would stay with her as Heather pulled a pink and red-wrapped box out of the bag, but instead, her heart suddenly tightened. She wasn’t sure what it was - maybe nervousness? A stupid emotion to feel when you’re  _ supposed _ to be feeling smug about this present, but it just wouldn’t go away as she tore through the wrapping paper ever so carefully.

“The suspense is killing me,” Veronica said dryly as Duke took her sweet time unfolding the corners of the wrapping paper.

_ Me too, _ Chandler thought, but for a different reason. She wasn’t looking to see what the present was. She was looking to see what Heather would think. And while the logical part of her mind  _ knew _ she was going to love it, the other part of her mind, the part that wasn’t logical, was panicking. It was dreading how Heather may react, if she decided she didn’t want it, that she didn’t want anything to do with her, after everything that had happened-

“Oh.”

“Shit, you hate it, don’t you?” Chandler blurted out. Duke whipped her head up from the item in her hand and shot her an odd look.

“What? No, of course not.” She let out a huff of laughter, before looking back down at the accessory in her hand, while Chandler let out a sigh of relief at her reply.

“I, um,” she began. “Obviously I didn’t get the same one as I did,” she said. “Didn’t want us to get mixed up or anything.”

Duke seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts, Chandler could guess by her delayed response.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fair.” She pulled it closer. “These are interesting.” She ran a finger over the shiny green sequins dotted around red silk.

“I added those myself,” Chandler said.

“Sewing?” Duke asked. Chandler gave a nod.

“You can sew?” Veronica questioned, looking curious.

“Mhmm.” She nodded again, before turning her attention back to Duke. “Are you going to put it on, or-”

“Oh, yeah,” Duke said quickly, wrapping it around her wrist in preparation. “Sorry, it was just a surprise, is all.”

“I’m aware,” Chandler replied fondly. “Now put it on. I laboured over that scrunchie for ages.” She shuffled over. “I want to see how it looks on you.”

Duke’s lips curled into a smile, before she began to tie the red scrunchie to her loose black locks, looping it three times before releasing the fistful of hair.

Against the rest of her outfit, which consisted of the colours green, black and blue, the scrunchie really popped in colour, especially against her black strands. The shimmering green sequins that were dotted around the scrunchie in an orderly fashion offered an extra shimmer to it, as well as some sort of connection to the rest of her, whether that be her outfit or otherwise, it didn’t matter. Because Chandler couldn’t lie to herself.

Heather Duke didn’t look half bad in red.

“Does it look okay?” Duke asked, turning her head left and right to give the others a view.

“It looks great!” Mac exclaimed.

“It suits you,” Veronica commented.

Duke smiled, then turned to Chandler, who had no idea what else to say.

Because it did look great.

It did suit her.

“It’s…” Chandler began, biting her tongue as she tried to think of the right word.

“It’s perfect.”

She was sure she saw Duke’s eyes widen when the sentence left her tongue, if only briefly, before she gave a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” she replied. Chandler could only smile back warmly, hardly noticing the few silent moments passing by, up until she suddenly spoke,

“Oh! I forgot the best part.” She shifted towards Duke, then ran her finger over one of the row of sequins. As she did, she left a trail of red sequins behind.

“That’s a pretty cool feature,” Duke chuckled, followed by Mac gasping in excitement.

“That’s so satisfying!” She beamed and crawled over to them. “Can I do the other row?”

Chandler gave a chuckle. “Go ahead.”

Grinning, Mac ran her finger over the other row of green, replacing it with a shimmering red. While she was half way through, the sound of the front door swinging open was faintly heard, catching their attention. They all turned towards the door of the bedroom knowingly, and a collective groan then sounded.

“Freedom was fun while it lasted,” Duke mumbled. Chandler looked back to her and scoffed.

“They can’t do anything while we’re here.”

Duke let out an exasperated chuckle. “Wouldn’t put it past them.” Her smile faltered for a moment, and a sense of understanding had the audacity to twist Chandler’s heart. “Usually I’d use you as an excuse to get them to fuck off, but I have a feeling they want to talk to me about the  _ thing _ .”

Veronica and Mac exchanged somber looks with each other, while Chandler just snorted.

“As if they have anything good to say.”

Just as she finished her sentence, a woman’s voice could be heard from the floor below.

“ _ Heather! _ ”

Duke visibly winced.

“I should’ve used this time to write my will,” she murmured.

“Will it be that bad?” Veronica asked, concern evident in her tone. Duke gave a huff.

“Oh, sweet innocent Veronica Sawyer,” she sang, “you don’t know the half of it.”

Veronica grimaced at the attempt at humour, while Mac threw herself onto Duke, almost pushing her backwards onto the mattress.

“If they do anything shitty, feel free to drive to my house later!” she told her. Duke offered a smile, while looking slightly pained. Possibly from how tight the hug was.

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Duke choked out, before pushing Mac off as gently as she could. “And even if I wasn’t, I doubt they’re gonna let me leave for the next few days.”

“Ugh,” Chandler grunted, scrunching up her nose. “If they give you shit, call us.”

Duke gave a thumbs up, followed by her name being called again.

“ _ Heather! Come down here! _ ”

Duke let out a hiss. “I have  _ friends _ over, mom!”

A pause.

“They’ll have to leave. We need to talk to you.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, kicking them out now.” She hopped onto the floor and gestured for everyone to follow. The three of them obeyed, though Chandler was hesitant to do so, therefore the last of them to come out the room.

As the four of them made their way down the stairs, Heather’s two brothers came darting around the corner and dashing up, only stopping when they were a few steps away from Duke.

“ _ Somebody’s _ in trouble,” Hunter jeered at her. A wave of anger hit Chandler in hearing his mocking tone, and it was only made even worse when Hayden spoke.

“ _ Somebody _ better brush her teeth more often,” he sneered, venom evident in his tone.

Mac stopped first, causing Veronica to stop behind her. Mac shot a glare at them both, but remained silent. Veronica just stared at the two of them in shock. Clearly this was a great first impression for her.

“Nice to see you too, dickheads,” Duke spat back. “Especially you.” She turned to Hayden. “Actually, I take it back. I’m counting down the days you go back to college.”

Hayden just scoffed at her, before his gaze dropped down a step, to Veronica.

“Who’s this one?”

“Is her name Heather as well?” Hunter questioned. Chandler caught a look in the younger boy’s eye - a look of hunger. Lust, even.

There was anger burning in her chest before. There was absolutely no need to add any jealousy to the mix, because it was starting to fucking sting.

“No, I’m Veronica,” Veronica retorted. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Veronica, huh?” Hayden commented. “Thought you looked familiar.”

That comment confused Chandler, and in looking at Duke in front of her, she was sure she saw her freeze up for a moment.

“You’ve never met her,” Duke then blurted out. “Thank God.”

“Rude,” Hayden grunted.

“Nope, gonna have to to agree with your sister,” Veronica muttered.

Hunter then let out a crude chuckle and leaned up into his brother’s ear.

“I’m just glad she has a hot friend that doesn’t have her name.” He smirked, and Hayden laughed. And clearly neither of them cared that all four of the girls heard every word. Chandler dared to look at Veronica’s reaction, and she was very clearly disgusted. God, could these two assholes say anything any worse-

“Anyway, if you’re gonna throw up any time soon, do it out the house, would ya?” Hayden snarked.

“Yeah. Always did wonder why the bathroom smelled of vomit,” Hunter added.

Fuck it.

Just as they took another step up the stairs, Chandler stepped towards Hayden, the closest brother to her, and gripping onto the collar of his shirt. His expression switched to one of shock, and as she loomed closer to him, leering at him threateningly, it morphed into one of fear.

“Listen here, cunt,” she hissed. “Keep saying shit like that, and it’ll be  _ you _ throwing up blood.” She made sure to lock eyes with them both. “Got that, dickheads?”

Hayden swallowed, and it was clear he was trying to look bold, but by how he appeared shorter than her thanks to being on a lower step, it wasn’t working at all.

“As if you could ever return to this house if you tried anything,” he growled back.

“Yeah!” Hunter added.

“Shut up, Hunter,” Hayden snapped.

“Sorry, Hayden,” Hunter muttered.

Chandler let out a cackle at the empty threat.

“Oh, as if I’m scared of your shitty parents!” she sneered. “They already hate me. I have nothing to lose.” She snarled at him. “Now I suggest you move your scrawny ass out of here.” She then let go of him, though not before she pushed him back slightly, almost tipping him backwards over the stairs. Luckily for him, Hunter managed to catch him and help him stay on the step.

She then stepped to the side, giving them room to climb up the stairs. They hesitated for a moment, but in looking at the snarl she held on her expression, they were quick to dart up the rest of the steps. Once they were gone, Chandler felt herself relax, and she gazed down at the other three girls with a chilled expression.

“It’s fine, Heather’s family have never liked me.” The statement was more aimed at Veronica, who was giving her a bewildered look. Mac and Duke, however, looked as if this were a regular experience.

“Yeah, you’re a bad influence, in my parent’s words,” Duke said as they began making their way down the stairs again. As they got to the bottom, Duke stopped in her tracks and waited until Chandler was at her side, where she whispered a quiet, “Thanks.”

The corner of Chandler’s lips picked up, before she shrugged.

“Nothing new,” she replied as they followed Veronica and Mac.

“Still,” Duke murmured. “I know they’re gonna be giving me shit for being bulimic.”

Chandler frowned at the thought.

“Maybe less so if I keep hanging around,” she said. “And even if they do, you can just crash at my house.”

Duke gave a thankful smile, but said no more, as they group had all stopped at the doorway to slip their shoes back on.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Heather!” Mac said, grinning, before giving her yet another hug. Duke chuckled.

“Mhmm.”

Once Mac released her, Veronica spoke,

“Hope your family aren’t too hard on you?”

“They’ll be very hard on me, but thanks for the sentiment.” She gave a thumbs up and a faux smile. Veronica grimaced.

“We’ll arrange your birthday party soon?” Chandler asked. Duke sighed.

“I doubt I’ll be able to in the next week.” She nodded to the door to the living room, where her parents most likely were. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” She then opened up the door and held it for them. Mac and Veronica thanked her, and Chandler gave a nod as they stepped outside. And just as Chandler was about to follow Mac and Veronica down to her car, she was tapped on the arm.

“Hey, bitch.”

Chandler looked back to Duke, confused when she said nothing else. Eventually she got her answer when she looked down, and saw her holding out her hand towards her.

Ah.

“We’re doing this?” Chandler asked, arching a brow. Duke shrugged.

“Truce.”

Chandler raised her brows at her and blinked, before letting out an amused huff and finishing the handshake. In doing so, a nostalgic feeling bloomed in her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d let it become nostalgic in the first place.

She should’ve just kept hold of it.

“See you tomorrow,” she eventually spoke up, realising she had remained quiet for slightly longer than she should have. Duke gave a brief smile.

“See you.” Just as she spoke, her mother could be heard again.

“ _ Heather! _ ”

Duke cringed at the harsh tone, but regardless, her shoulders slumped and she got ready to shut the door. As it came swinging towards Chandler, however, she held her hand out without even thinking, stopping it from clicking shut. Duke shot her a confused look, and Chandler spoke.

“I know I’ve said this already, but you can crash at mine if they give you shit, okay?”

Duke raised her brows at her.

“I appreciate it.” She attempted to shut the door again, but Chandler pushed against it.

“I mean it,” she told her, lowering her voice. “Even if it’s at two in the goddamn morning. I’ll probably be awake anyway.”

Duke paused for a moment, as if trying to process what she had just heard, until she eventually gave a genuine smile, one that stuck around long enough for Chandler to recognize that it meant something more than a simple “thanks”.

“Kinda like old times, then?” She gave a chuckle. “I’ll honk my horn at 3am, see how you like it,” she jeered. Chandler gave an indignant huff.

“Here I am, trying to be  _ nice _ ,” she lamented. “And this is the thanks I get.”

Duke scorned at her playfully. “You don’t deserve my thanks, you cunt.” She continued to shut the door, then stopped, leaving a slight gap for her to peek through. “Though, I really appreciate it.” Her tone softened. “I’ll see you.”

Chandler gave a smile and a small wave. “Bye bye, bitch.”

And with that, the door clicked shut. Usually Chandler would have just turned around and gone back to her car, but it seemed she forgot to do that for a moment, and simply stood still.

This new chemistry was still new to her, and took longer to process than most interactions.

It was just so odd being able to insult Heather without there being any actual malice in her voice.

“Hey, Heather!” Veronica calling her name finally broke her out of her mini trance. She looked over to her, and saw her leaning against the red vehicle. “Mind letting us in? It’s freezing.”

“Alright, God, coming now,” she groaned in reply, before turning around and making her way over to her car.

And on her way back, she couldn’t help feel different compared to her usual interactions with Heather. Usually there would be spite, annoyance, bitterness. It would leave her in a low mood at best.

But now it was all new, and yet all old. She felt satisfied, concerned, worried, content. Emotions that couldn’t all be placed in the same box.

That was good. Recognizing the positives and stressing over the negatives was good.

That way, Heather knew she cared enough to not ruin their friendship a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dkfjjfkdkjfd got this fucking fic done i stg i'm so goddamn tiRED OF THIS FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET ME MOVE ONTO THE CHANDLAMARA PARTS U ASS
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> hey Chandler honey maybe that's not the best idea but go off
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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